tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76334233527932660032024-03-05T03:18:50.290-08:00Disposable HouseDisposable House is a follow up of the research, documentation and preparation of the “public art” project on the “imagery of House in individual and collective memories” by Samudra Kajal Saikia, supported by FICA.
In its core this platform is also about defining “public” and the “public art”. With a much larger promise this blog knots multiple activities and ideas in diversified areas and disciplines, including animation, book-making, performance, photo-documentation, writing and event-making.Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-16113157334353629512019-12-07T08:23:00.001-08:002019-12-07T08:23:42.969-08:00House on Wheels : Interview with Art Illustrated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Kalpurush;">[Interview with Art Illustrated (ed. Niharika Peri) on Disposable House and Disposable Theatre by Kankhowa (Samudra Kajal saikia); </span><span style="font-family: Kalpurush;">Interview Dated: October, 2015</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Kalpurush;">Essay by: Praveena Shivram]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Kalpurush;">see: <a href="https://www.mojarto.com/blogs/house-on-wheels">https://www.mojarto.com/blogs/house-on-wheels</a> </span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">I want to start by
asking you about the word you use – Disposable. It is so many things at
the same time – clinical, functional, ephemeral, and somehow, a very
‘middle class’ term. I am curious to know what ‘disposable’ means to you.
How do you define it? And why this particular word?<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
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<span lang="EN-GB">You are right,
it is 'so many things at the same time' and really difficult to explain in a
line. I do not remember exactly what was the time I was using this word (term)
first and even if I do remember, over the period of time the connotations might
have transformed a lot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I was a
performer (I do not say myself a Performance Artist) even before I came to the
visual arts. Being a performer, and then gradually involved into researches on
Performance Art, I had to be concern about the ephemeral nature of the things. More
than a decade ago I started executing a one of a kind performance that I called
Disposable Theatre. The central argument behind the method was to claim back the
spatial and ephemeral specificity of the live art. It was a remonstration
against the national, phenomenal and grandiose theatre that used to repeat
itself in many 'shows' or staging(s). If theatre is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">live</i> how can it be repeated? So I started doing a theatre which used
to destroy its own evidences on the spot and at the momentum. Sometimes I
adopted similar texts, I mean literary texts, twice or more than that, but in
the process of doing it eventually was altered itself according to the given
space. By the process the performance was privileged over the written text. Thus
the Disposable Theatre tends to belong in a grey area between experimental
theatre and the Performance Art. The experience and the memory was
prioritized<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before residue and - most
importantly the momentum was honoured by negating a promise of repeating
itself. I think now I have explained why I tried to dispose my theatre. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Then the
ephemeral or un-sustainability took me into another philosophical level. From only
this transient essence I had to think of- the art of performance is different
from other tactile, plastic or thing-arts. Here I do not produce a product,
object or thing, but I transform my very body- where I do inhabit- into art. As
the art is transient, the body itself is another perishable thing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Art is life, and we can have one life at a
time</i>. And we often encounter so many folk and traditional cultural
materials in the theme of dealing with perishable body. So this single word-
'disposable' helped me a lot to make a rebel against the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thingification</i> of art, to re-connect with certain traditional
cultural beliefs, and to find out a work-pattern as well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">To add on, while
answering to your queries I am just thinking: is disposable is the opposite to
the sustainable? Here onwards there might open a new window to think upon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">In the Disposable
House Project, you completely shattered this myth of the ‘house’ and the
‘home’. It felt particularly relevant in today’s times when every second
SMS is an advertisement for purchasing that ‘dream home’. Did you, at any
point during the course of the project, ever feel that urgency of taking
on this concept of how the home has transformed to mean all things
material, where even purchasing the right wall colour can purchase
happiness and contentment? Was this what led to the genesis of the project
itself?<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
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<span lang="EN-GB">You cracked it.
Spatial experiences has to do a lot of things to my artistic practices. Only
because of that spatial concerns I came out to the promenade theatre from the
proscenium architectural closet. (Here I owe my tribute to Badal Sircar and his
third theatre for drawing my attention to think upon the language of theatre
and to be concern on the live-communication between the actor and the
spectator). Theatre and Performance are part of architectures. In certain
nuanced times, house and home are interchangeably usable, likewise body and
house seems to do the same. In 2000 I came to Santiniketan from a small town in
Assam and witnessed an urbanizing neighbourhood during the five years I was
doing my BFA. Then in Baroda and then in Delhi- the transformation of spaces
caught my eyes. Delhi as a site or space constantly provokes you constructing
high rise buildings and the promotional real-estate strategies. Somehow the
need for a "dream home" is there in everybody's mind. In this
post-globalized state of being it is even more interesting - because we belong
to a constantly shifting space. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I am not pretty
sure about using the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Diaspora</i>
here, but if truth be told we all are in a diasporic state. In fact the one who
is there in the same locality and same inhabitation, - is shifting fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">To answer your
question, in a way yes it was there in the germination of the project(s). Let
put the matter differently. A performer also needs a community- a community-
beholder of same taste and language. As we need to learn the language of the
audience, we need to train up the audience as well. We cannot work only for a
conceptual or imaginary audience. We need audience physically present out
there- in front of us, in the time of execution, in the time of living the
performance and in the time of death of the performance. We need to speak
literally to the spectator. Now a language has a validity when both the sides
understand the idioms or use the same vocabulary. But what happens when you
shift the space? How do I do my art to a different set of audience who do not
know my language? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">When the city is
shifting constantly, can a concrete building be the settlement for my body?
Where the 'dream house' leads you to - when 'dream' itself is a moving
phenomena? This disturbed situations led me to incorporate the idea of theatre,
the language of theatre inside the practice. Sometimes while doing a work, more
than the work - the process of doing it and scenes-behind came forth. Thus, the
'work-in-progress' state of being is more prevalent than a final show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">This idea of the
‘body’ as the ‘home of the soul’ becomes, I feel, an important metaphor in
both your Disposable Theatre and Disposable House Project. But I feel, the
‘body’ is also the tool through which performance art manifests, anyway.
How conscious are you of this construct – the physicality of our body and
the physicality of ideas as they manifest?<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I think, exactly
the same I have stated in the previous stage. At a time you cannot
differentiate<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>house from home since
every tool, element and component demands their contribution to each other. The
concrete wall, a torn cloth, an old piece of news paper or the living human
body with flesh-and-blood claim their own role towards the development of the
concept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">There is a
series of works on the basis of a poem called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">'The Body House of an Actor</i>' that extensively deals with the
concept of body as house, and the agony and ecstasy of the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>role-player performer. As a seminal work of
mine this performance poetry breaks through the division of conceptual and the
materiality. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Here you will
also notice that the concern around 'body' is not very much similar to the
other Performance Artists. Sometimes I also put the body in the centre of the
work, but not akin to the body-centric Performance Artists. The performance
poem <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">'The Body House of an Actor</i>' was
a monologue. But while executing, there were many "I"s. The self was
celebrated collectively. A major work of Disposable theatre "Ravana
Katha" (2007), a more than 5000 word epic narrative, was the best example
where the self of the character (Ravana) was split into ten personalities.
Where the singular self was completely devastated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">While watching the
video on the Disposable House Project, I was struck by the quality of
touring from one place to another. Somehow, that journey felt intrinsic to
how that project was perceived; that almost nomadic quality of life so
rigorously shunned by ‘civil society’. Did you, by bringing your project
into the public domain, feel it was a statement meant to inspire thought,
or a spectacle meant to inspire curiosity? <o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Stating house as
a 'settlement' is a pretension of the 'civil society', you nailed it. This
pretension was a gift of the modernism. The ideas around settlement, identity
and history (whenever you write a history - we are tempted to see it as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our</i> history and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their</i> history) appeared to be problematic on this very ground. then
started the problems around nation and state. The pseudo- settlement taught us
intolerance towards the nomadic nature of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Doing the large
scale parade across the city of Guwahati in the Indian State of Assam,
concurrently some other relevance came forth. The parade was started in a place
named Kahilipara with a semi-ritualistic manner and after moving around the
entire city was ended up in Ujan Bazar Ghat- at the bank of Brahmaputra river.
It was consisting of five - life-sized house<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>tableau or maquettes moving by themselves like automation through the
busy streets. One house was consisting some sufi elements where they say about
the body-house and the interior-exterior dilemmas of the self conscience. The
second one was a middle class household replicating the Assam-type architecture
with wooden beams. Likewise other houses were from a house of Diaspora, a house
for the body-house-of-an-actor. The materials of the construction were dumped
on the river bank and thus disposed on the day of performance itself. Some
re-usable materials were left for the homeless people - on the site - to take
away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">It was
spectacular, mobilizing a huge crowd and an intervene into the regular everyday
of the town. Assam and the other North East Indian states have been in turmoil
for more than three decades on the issues of immigration causing political and
cultural identity crisis. This phenomenal, performative and visually nosy move
shocked many eye-witnesses in the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Can you tell us a
little bit about how different artists came together to build those
disposable houses? What were the kinds of timelines you were working with?
<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
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<span lang="EN-GB">By nature I love
collective experiences. Almost all of my performative ventures took a shape in
collective supports. In 2002 or 2003 I did some small scale performances in Santiniketan<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on the theme of house as a tribute to Lalon
Fakir. Then I continued writing poetry, graffiti, book-making, animation,
photo-documentation and theatre works and in 2010 I received the Public Art
Grant from Foundation for Indian contemporary art (FICA) for the Disposable
house project. Since the concept was multifaceted and layered I entitled it as
" Disposable House: imagery of House in individual and collective memories".
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Loosely,
sometimes I call the process of instigation a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">creative curating</i></b>. I like
making things interdisciplinary in true sense and create an environment where
people from various ground come and work. The best part of this process is -
the process itself becomes a work - vibrant with different energies. During the
one decade time span I did a number of theatrical ventures like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ghar Katha</i> (in Baroda), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">HouseHOLD</i> (KNMA, India), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">House-Bearer</i> (Gauhati Artists' Guild), a
major wall painted animation film, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Storied
House</i> (with Mahan J Dutta) in Ahmedabad, a number of illustrated books and
other events. All were collaborative and the collaborators share their own
subjective presence in the formation and execution. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">In 2012 during
the execution of the public art project <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Apna
hi Ghar Samjho</i>, along with another likeminded curator and thinker Rahul
Bhattacharya we initiated a public art festival of its kind naming Regional
Art, Performance and Events (R.A.P.E.) 2012<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>where a number of practitioner came and participated in the events.
Manmeet Devgun, Abha Sheth, Pratul Dash, Mandakini Galore, Anuradha Upadhyay
and many contemporary artists and thinkers joined the process. Shakti Bhatt,
Mahan J Dutta, Kriti Gupta, Akhilesh Arya, Kaustubh Das, Dharitri Boro, Pari
Baishya, Arnab Ghosal and some other artists are there<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>being a part of the disposable ventures time
to time. There are many people more, and they belong to completely diverged
fields and localities. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">To initiate the
projects usually I prefer a short timed workshop-based model. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
<ol start="6" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">Was there a specific
meaning and purpose to how the houses were shaped (I imagine they were
built over autos?) and the kinds of artwork it displayed on its outer
walls? And what was inside the houses?<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
</ol>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">In the project
in Guwahati, there were five houses, to show the collective spirit and to
incorporate the diversified concepts behind the concept. The number five helps
me to conceptualize the dramatic Aristotelian pyramid and also reminded me of
the five elements with which the body is constituted with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">There was a Sufi
house. In the creations of the medieval poets like Kabir, Lalon Fakir, Ajan
Fakir and others we encounter with the 'imagery of House' in various terms. In
the Sahajiya Dehatatwa concept the human body is described as a house or a cage
where the spirit comes and dwells temporarily. The concept of the Urban House
was developed and embodied after the many phases of rapid urbanization and
globalization. It comprises of materialistic dreams, individualistic
aspirations and an experience of the urban everyday life. The Body House of an
Actor was another central to the concept. If the Actor is an artist, unlike
other visual and plastic artists s/he does not produce an 'other' thing-art,
but transforms the very subjective body to an art- object. The body of an actor
is the art to "present", the body is the house - where the actor
inhabits. There was another house for Diaspora/ displacement/ Homelessness etc.
This house raises many issues regarding the sociological and political aspects
of home and homelessness. And the last house is Kankhowa's House (Kankhowa is a
name borrowed from Assamese folklore and used extensively for my performative
ventures): a composite of all the mentioned above. From the imageries of
folklore to the urban contemporary contest, it tries to weave out a complicated
network of the individual and collective memories. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">The
constructions were built with help of some artisans in Jyoti Chitraban and
student artists from Govt. College of Art and some students' collectives like
Anga North East. The constructions were attached to tempos and they could move
independently giving an allusion of automation happening on the road-
"See, house moving! House moving!!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<ol start="7" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">How much of your own
identity is invested in this project? Is there, for instance, a resonance
with the bhela ghar, built during the harvest festival of Bhogali?<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">I started
researching around the available materials in the existing cultural tapestry
how the imagery of house and home were being used. The making of a house-shape
with the hay collected from the paddy field when the harvesting is over,
inhabiting one night inside that temporal house having grand feast and then
burning down the house interests me in many ways. Not only because of the
spectacular nature, the feast or the personal memories associated with the
tradition but also for the treating of house as a temporal or momentary inhabit
and thereafter destroying it by burning down to ashes. In Assamese the word
'Bhel' sometimes denotes 'body'. So I easily developed an interest in bringing
a reference of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bhelaghar</i> into my
body-house of an Actor project. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">To add on, I grew
up in a culturally happening environment, within the family. I <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>liked and enjoyed the collective works in the
traditional arena of my village. In Santiniketan also, I used to be a part of
the collective cultural phenomenon and made use of that collective-ness. Thus, collectivism
is not something that I have adopted recently or consciously. Neither
Performance is a term I encountered only in the art world. I am not at all
bothered of making a lineage from the Dada, Surrealism, Futurism or Avant Garde
to my Art Performances. Neither have I felt the need to borrow any given
vocabulary from Identity politics to confront my identity in my own work. I've
seen how everyone performs togetherness and nurtures the collective
consciousness alongside the subjective presence in my village. Very truly, without
a sense of togetherness I simply cannot think of art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<ol start="8" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">How effective do you
think public art projects are in general, especially in a country like
India, where we have such a profusion of colour and culture on an everyday
basis? Do you think these become just another part of our cultural
landscape or do you think they stand out precisely because they are meant
to merge into the ordinariness of life?<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
</ol>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Perfect
question. I truly believe public art, community engagement, collective efforts
and performances should take over the art-world, and particularly in India. But
sadly we are used to call them alternatives whereas they are the mainstream in
a country full of linguistic and cultural diversions. The elite white cube of
art practice is very much borrowed from western world and somehow it does not
fit into our conventional temperament. As a result art remained far away from
the ordinary everyday. We do not have a habit of seeing art regularly. The
museums and galleries remain empty in most of the days in a year devoid of
footfall. I go to museums and feel sleepy. I go to galleries only on the day of
opening because there is a party happening. Moreover we do not have a history
of practicing visual art in a progressive line and we should not expect one. An
inclination towards diversified practices always seek for utter preference. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<ol start="9" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">As someone who has
researched and is currently archiving the subject, do you think
performance art can be achieved in complete silence? For instance, do you
think the Disposable House Project would have been just as effective as a
silent procession, without the music or the poetry reading?<o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Yes. The matter
of Disposable House was little different since it was not conceptualized as a
mere performance project. In fact it was never meant to be a singular project
or work. Now when you are asking as on Performance Art, yes, it can happen in
complete (literary) silence. In fact, many times the silence helps to
foreground - the act, the action, the happening, the experience, the encounter,
the being of itself and the performance - more precisely pushing behind the
referential parts. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">In case of the
Disposable House Parade also it is the same. Now we are talking around the
available documentations: the materials with me and the memories around the
process. But think of a bystander, a witness, a passerby, a spectator on the
roadside in a city named Guwahati on a particular day. Think of that nameless
faceless spectator for whom it was a sudden encounter with extraordinariness on
an just another ordinary day. It was equally impactful for him or her also
without the poetry readings and other referential information. Five live sized
houses moving on the road, if nothing else could provide, at least produced a
moment of curiosity, created a sense of humour, grabbed the gaze to stop and
think for a while. Sometimes a performance serves its purpose within the
friction of a moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Just let me mention
another thing. I am also fond of nonsense. In all my works, many times I
deliberately keep a moment for nonsense. It gives me immense pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<ol start="10" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">In the context of the
Disposable House Project, or even Disposable Theatre, how crucial do you
think our understanding of space is to our personal interactions – with
ourselves and the world at large? <o:p></o:p></span></i></li>
</ol>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Again, I stated
earlier also, the spatial experience and the encounter of a new space has a lot
to do in my case. Like body, a space is also never remain empty or void. It is
always inscribed of too many things. The language a space holds set an impact
upon our bodies as well. So we do not really encounter a space only with a
third party gaze. And the same happens to the space also. It absorbs the language
of the bodies. You do not drive a car in the same pace on a narrow colony
street with what you do on an express highway. We do not behave the same in an
interior space and in the exterior. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">And then here an
encounter happens, when an element out of the space gets into a space?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<ol start="11" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">As a writer and
critic, why do you think performance art remains a largely niche concept
in our country?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is right that
despite of its relevance and importance Performance Art is still awaited for a
proper attention. In a way, perhaps it do not need that at all. It was started
as a radical and shocking element into the domain and many artists still deny
for documentation of it. It is not even a discipline with certain norms and
that is how many people oppose a pedagogic approach towards performance as Art.
Keeping aside this self reflective and idiosyncratic nature of Performance Art
there are some other issues in front of us what we should discuss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Most of the
artists in this practice try to implement certain methods, idioms or
communicative signs being inspired from some artists abroad. An ephemeral act
happening in west might mean something at a certain point of time. Other than
certain documentation, memory and discussions we really do not have any idea
about the moment- what exactly happened. Because once it is happened, it is
over. It is not like a photograph or a film that you can see and talk about -
later in any other time. And then we are not sure about 'for whom it may be
concerned'. This point is more crucial because the target audience or the
conceptual location of the spectator is always in a flux. How public is public
art? The problem is the same. In one way we say that performance art is meant
to all, and then we expect an expert viewing from a trained up audience. It is
a big problem. We do not have a healthy environment for discourses. We do not
have trained up spectator. Now I do not know how to train up a 'spectator', may
be doing is the only way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">One more thing,
we are highly effected by - <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lack of tolerance</i>.
We are not learnt enough to tolerate the ideas of others. Every time a
performance artist is forced to define <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what
is performance art</i> - which is a big pain. Perhaps no other form of art is
put under a question each time it takes a place. Existence itself could be a
definition for performance - we are not ready yet to accept this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Samudra Kajal
Saikia<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">kankhowa@gmail.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">+91 9811375594<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB">26th October,
2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-88348701739065532242016-04-22T09:48:00.000-07:002016-04-22T09:48:23.741-07:00Cohabitant Bodies: Samudra Kajal Saikia’s Disposable House Project in Guwahati, Assam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>"The Breath with the Breath: Contemporary Performance Art in
India", <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Melissa Rose Heer's dissertation
submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of The <b>University of
Minnesota </b>for the <b>PhD (May 2015)</b> examines contemporary performance
art practices in India, with a particular focus on the work of three artists
with diverse approaches to this ever-evolving art form: Ratnabali Kant, Samudra
Kajal Saikia and Nikhil Chopra. In her examination of specific performances,
that have taken place between 1985-2012, weaves together performance studies,
histories of theater, postcolonial critique, and a theoretical analysis of “the
performative” nature of the nation-state in area of art and globalization. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Samudra Kajal Saikia’s <i>Disposable House Project <o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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is the first chapter of Melissa's case studies [Chapter 2 in her PhD
submission]. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The roof of Kankhowa’s house leaks</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thousands of eyes from the evening sky<o:p></o:p></div>
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Keep staring at me<o:p></o:p></div>
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I cannot go out<o:p></o:p></div>
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I cannot stay in<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>-Kankhowa, The Body House of the Actor<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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Kankhowa’s illustrated
poem, <i>The Body House of the Actor</i> (2011), begins with a leaking rooftop
(fig. 13). The ceiling of the artist’s house is profusely dripping, pooling on
the floor and filling the space to the brim with elements from outside. It is
not simply rain that leaks into the house; rather, it is “thousands of eyes
from the evening sky.” Moreover, the house in this poem is also the artist’s
body. It is this house – the “body house of the actor” – into which the
spectator/reader begins to seep. Across sixteen pages of watercolor
illustrations accompanied by poetic verse, this porous body-house of the actor
is saturated with the bodies of spectators. The body appears and reappears in various
forms throughout the text: once, as a long leg wrapped around two figures shaking
hands at a doorway; once, as a faceless figure tightly embracing the ten wide-eyed
faces in its torso; later, as two legs on a chair with a long thin neck attached
to ten hovering heads; and still later as two brachiosaurus-like creatures
sticking their long necks through the open doors in each other’s bodies (figs.
14-17) As the watercolors soak into and across the paper, so this body drips
outside of its own contours and off the edges of the frame.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Even the name of the author
of the text, Kankowa, acts as an identifier for a number of bodies. The
attribution, Kankhowa, is the <i>nom de plume</i> of the Delhi-based Guwahati
born artist Samudra Kajal Saikia, but it also refers to an interdisciplinary collective
of artists, writers, and actors that Saikia helped organize in 2006. In a 2010 article
in the Kolkata-based magazine, <i>ArtEtc</i>, Saikia described this group’s
artistic process as “Disposable Theatre” which promotes a type of
performance-based art practice rooted in an interdependent relationship between
the actor and spectator that opens up a space for connectivity as well as
dissent.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Kankhowa’s practice takes the spectator as an integral part of the performance,
thereby opening a radical exploration of spatial experience that disrupts the
concentration of power and voice so often given solely to the actor. As Saikia
puts it, “where the spectator is privileged over the actor’s side, the spatial experience
is counted over the pre-designed text and the linearity of experience is deliberately
hampered, their power is not concentrated anymore.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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In my first chapter I
looked at the way in which Indian performance art arose out of the
activist-based roots of modern Indian theatre and its historical intersection
with the art world’s complex encounter with the global contemporary art world.
In this chapter I examine the ways in which the very definition of
spectatorship, in the work of Sumudra Kajal Saikia, is structured through a
conceptual reformulation of the actor/spectator relationship foreground through
the socially invested activist-based mission of modern Indian theatre. As I
will discuss, Saikia looks back to the work of the late twentieth century
playwright and theater activist Badal Sircar to think about how to address
issues of audience experience and participation within the context of
subnationalism and immigration in his home state of Assam. As illustrated in
his poem <i>The Body House of the Actor</i>, Saikia is interested in a type of
cohabitation by cultural/ethnic “others,” which is mirrored in the cohabitant
relationship between the actor and the audience that arises in performance art.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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My theorization of
cohabitation is informed by the artist’s own methodology of performative
interconnectivity, which he describes through this metaphor of a body that functions
also as a house. This body-house, for Saikia, is constantly bustling with new and
returning visitors, some of whom are strangers to each other. This metaphor
speaks to the concept that the actor and spectator may not “know” each other
directly, but are deeply connected through a mutual investment in viewing and
interpreting one another. Similarly cultural/ethnic “others” in the Indian
metropolis (i.e. the Muslim, Hindu, Tribal or Recent Immigrant communities) are
unified by the same desire for place-hood in a shared space, despite the
ideological tenuous, which separate them. For Saikia, the theorization,
visualization, and performance of the body house is an aestheticization of this
inevitable cohabitation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In cultivating his theory
of the body-house Saikia draws from interpretations of the body found in the
writing of mystic poets. Poets such as Kabir and Lalon Fakir often describe the
body as a house, and Saikia uses this concept, as in <i>The Body House of the Actor</i>,
to illustrate the submission of the actor’s fixed body to a body that extends
outside of itself, becoming part performer, part spectator. These philosophies
visualized in Saikia’s illustrations reiterate the methodologies of the
artist’s broader body of work, which aims to implicate both actor and spectator
in shared public space. Since 2010, Saikia has utilized the text of <i>The Body
House of the Actor</i> to explore this interrelationship in a series of
performance-based works that reflect on the concept of home. Most recently the
text was part of a large public performance, funded by a Foundation for Indian
Contemporary Art Public Art Grant, entitled <i>Disposable House </i>(2012),
which was one of the primary works at a month long series of site-specific projects
in Guwahati under the auspices of Regional Arts Performance and Events Assam (RAPE).<o:p></o:p></div>
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The <i>Disposable House</i>
project took place on February 20th 2012, when five lifesize houses hoisted on
top of auto-rickshaws moved through the central city streets of Guwahati in the
state of Assam (figs. 18-26). The mobile houses were accompanied by a large
public procession of artists involved in the Regional Arts Performance and
Events led by Saikia. They started at the Jyoti Chitraban Film and Television
Institute, moved through the main commercial corridor of the city (Ujan
Bazaar), and ended at the banks of the Brahmaputra River, where the group
initially intended to set the homes afloat on the water. Instead, as I will
discuss, the cohabitant relationship between the actor and the audience altered
the outcome of the performance. The materials were given instead to local
homeless residents near the riverbank who were displeased with fact that
housing materials would be wasted if they were left to drift away in the water.
During this final portion of the performance, before the houses were initially
gifted to the Brahmaputra, and ultimately to those residing on its banks,
Saikia read aloud <i>The Body House of the Actor</i> text.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The body-house is a
metaphor for the fundamental philosophy at the heart of Saikia’s
performance-based art practices, as well as the activist underpinnings of his work.
These inseparable, amalgamated body-houses express the artist’s interest in the
profoundly paradoxical relationship between the artist and spectator, as well
as that between the self and other in society. The artist’s gaze is fixed on
both the shifting and intransigent ethnic, religious, racial and class tensions
in India, which have been spawned by its recent economic ascendency and
enduring colonial legacy. The body-house offers a site of critical
interconnectivity in which the many faces of power and dissent meld together
and break apart. Such interconnectivity produces an intangible and fluctuating architectural
corporality that contains conflicting desires for belonging.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This chapter examines
Saikia’s work in relation to the political theories foregrounded by modern
Indian theatre practitioners such as those of Safdar Hashmi discussed in the
previous chapter, and the work of Bidal Sircar. In addition, by considering the
body as depicted by mystic poets Lalon Fakir and Kabir, I want to give an
indication of what is at stake in Saikia’s work as it attempts to maintain and
perform acontested notion of
belonging<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></span></span></a>.</div>
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Saikia’s work and his
theory of Disposable Theater underscore how contemporary performance art
practices in India did not arise exclusively from either theatre or visual arts.
Rather, these practices can best be understood as emerging out of the interface
between these two – already <i>mutually constitutive</i> – art forms. In
chapter one, I argued that contemporary performance art in India unsettles the
dichotomy between visual arts and theatre, and showed how this untenable demarcation,
carried over from the Euro-American context (where it is arguably already
untenable), cannot be simply mapped across the complex histories of Indian art
and theatre. Consider, for example, the slippage between Saikia’s
self-identification as an actor and as an artist, and the way this slippage (which
this essay further enacts) self-consciously fails to resolve semantic
complexity. It is important to acknowledge the significance of this semantic
complexity because it works to undermine the authorial legitimacy given to “the
actor” alone. While the word <i>theatre</i> naturally situates Disposable
Theatre within the history of theatre, <i>disposable </i>equally suggests that
this is a radical form of theatre that disposes of its own structures and
practices. Kankowa cites the seeming cleavage between theatre and visual art as
among the various dichotomies it aims to reactivate (the public and the
private, the individual and the collective, the conventional and the radical,
and the mainstream and the alternative, to name just a few).<o:p></o:p></div>
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The concept of the
body-house and the theory of disposable theater expands and critically reworks
philosophies of theatre and spectatorship such as those articulated by the
Bengali dramatist, theatre director, and performance theorist Badal Sircar
(also known as Badal Sarkar). Sircar began his career as an actor and director
in the early 1950s and later became a writer of proscenium plays in the late
1960s. In the 1970s, however, during the Naxalite movement, Sircar began to
foreground a concept of non-proscenium theatre through his model of “The Third
Theatre.” Saikia, who graduated from Kala Bhavana Institute of Fine Arts in
Shantinekatan in 2005, was part of the Shantinekatan theatre group <i>Sanko</i>
(meaning small bridge or canal in Bengali), encountered Sircar’s theories as a
student. The group, later renamed <i>Samakal</i> (meaning current time or
contemporary in Bengali) was established in 1997 and was based around Sircar’s
theories of performance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In his 1978 essay, “The
Third Theatre,” Sircar argued for a theatre that addresses what he describes as
the dichotomy between rural and urban culture resulting from colonialism.
Indian cities had acquired a colonial character under British imperial rule, particularly
through its educational system, to such an extent that culture in these urban areas
is understood to be rooted in English ideologies and interests. By contrast,
Sircar saw the culture of the countryside as less contaminated by this colonial
imposition, and thus as having maintained its indigenous cultural and artistic
roots. For Sircar, theatre is one of the primary cultural fields through which
this cultural dichotomy took shape. City theatre, in the form of proscenium
theatre, is based on styles and forms originating in the West, whereas rural
theatre continues to work in traditional folk-based forms.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Accordingly, Sircar
proposes a “Third Theater” that would work between these two forms. He writes,
“In such a situation, if we want to revitalize the city theatre or the village
theatre, we have to hit at the root of this dichotomy and attempt to create a
link between the two through a Third Theatre which synthesizes the two.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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For Sircar, a large part of
achieving this synthesis depends on dismantling proscenium theatre. The very
architecture of the proscenium auditorium, as well as its stage, lighting
system, and set design, are all modeled after forms rooted in the traditions of
the West. At a practical level, Sircar was concerned with connecting theatre
with a wider audience and, for this reason, wanted to reduce the exorbitant
costs involved in maintaining the upkeep of a proscenium theatre. Comparing
theatre to the more widely popular art of cinema, he argued that theatre should
draw upon its unique advantage of facilitating live, direct communication
between the actors and audience – the very advantage he saw inhibited by the
alienating structure of the proscenium auditorium. In proscenium theatre the
performer is elevated on a stage above the audience, engrossed in elaborate
sets and designs, and forced to shout to the back row to be heard. Moreover, through
the eyes of the actor, blinded by oppressively bright stage lights, the
audience appears as nothing more than a faceless mass consumed in darkness.
Thus, in addition to its colonial legacy, proscenium theatre renders a
disinterested spectator.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sircar promoted a
non-proscenium theatre for its potential to dismantle the alienation between
actors and audience members produced by the dominant form. Such a theater could
cultivate a more direct form of engagement between performers and active spectators.
In 1967, Sincar had already formed the theatre group <i>Satabdi</i>, which
worked in open space without costume, make-up, lighting or props. By 1976, <i>Satabdi</i>
started doing open-air, free performances at Surendranath Park (then Curzon
Park) in Kolkata and the group travelled on weekends to nearby villages. These
non-conventional performances entirely rejected the use of characters, plot or
storyline. For example, the 1974 performance, <i>Micchil</i>, moved largely
away from narrative in favor of situation. It began with actors sitting among
the audience outdoors in urban space, directly engaging them in the performance
and ultimately inviting them to join it in a procession to end all processions.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Earlier works such as these
resonate strongly with the structure and rhythm of <i>Disposable House</i>.
Like <i>Micchil</i>, <i>Disposable House</i> involves a procession through the city
streets that involves the public in the realization of the performance. The organizational
framework of the piece simultaneously plays with elements of chance and uncertainly,
and like Sincar’s “third theater,” the performance itself is ultimately subject
to the unpredictable pulse of the city in space and time. Yet, <i>Disposable
House</i> is different in important ways. Saikia argues that while Sircar’s
articulation of the actor-spectator relationship “brought immense possibilities
for us to <i>disturb</i>,” this work is also interested in the limitations of
disruption and therefore strives to “search for some other <i>language</i>.”
Thus, the practice of Disposable Theatre both looks back at Sircar’s work for inspiration
and critically re-envisions the interconnected spectator/actor relationship
foregrounded by Sircar.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Saikia is especially
critical of the current state of Third Theatre. Citing a 2009 performance of <i>Raktakarabi</i>
at the National School of Drama in Delhi, Saikia describes a situation in which
audience members were asked to first buy tickets and, only after passing
multiple checkpoints, entered into an “open-air” performance space,to find
actors on an elevated stage lit by bright spotlights. Although the space was
technically open-air theatre, Saikia describes how the situation cultivated by
this staging of the environment rendered the audience unable to speak. The
audience, sitting silently amongst each other in darkness, look up towards the
performative power of the actors. According to Saikia, “What went wrong with
Badal Sircar is, he took the ‘proscenium’ as the central object for objection
where his critique has larger promise.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn6" name="_ftnref6" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[6]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
The mere physical removal of the play from the proscenium stage does not open
up the performance to a revision of the alienated spectator/actor relationship;
rather, dialogue happens when the actor’s body is inextricably intertwined with
that of the spectator through the articulation of shared ideological and
physical space.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The organization of the
Regional Arts Performance and Events in 2012 arose largely out of this desire
to re-imagine the role of a mutually constitutive artist, place, and public
within contemporary art practices in India. (Samudra Kajal) Saikia, who
co-organized the event with the curator Rahul Bhattacharya, and the support of
the <i>BlackRice</i> and <i>Kankowa</i> collectives, aimed specifically to
address the problem of “defining the ‘public’ within the existing public art
practices.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn7" name="_ftnref7" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[7]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> In
previous ventures, Bhattacharya had expressed concern about the limitations of
space as it is regulated through the contemporary art scene in Delhi, including
those practices that describe themselves as “performative.” As performance art
was becoming more visible within the art scene through the Khoj international
performance art festivals in 2007, Bhattacharya responded by organizing a series
of events and a blog entitled <i>Can it Be Done in Any Corner You Like?</i>
With Kankowa’s participation, these actions aimed to make an intervention into
performance art practice by bringing space and public engagement to the
forefront. The Regional Arts Performance and Events acted as an extension of
these aims, and furthermore articulated the imperatives of Disposable Theatre
to reshape the performer-spectator relationship. Put differently, performance
should not only take place within public space, it should produce a <i>conversation</i>
within and with the space.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrqFwUmoIgsrvs-SENaPBM9daui1rDACq4pr4C3QCxxWfgNBDbLkTZGv9oWzcWyJsh_nC3Hkp2AkvPagjA1-0xuEmKx1yx7a2vnpdo3EyMJG9kJhXuECSbq_5VNf9C_ZfLvW1dhP3LXP1/s1600/026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrqFwUmoIgsrvs-SENaPBM9daui1rDACq4pr4C3QCxxWfgNBDbLkTZGv9oWzcWyJsh_nC3Hkp2AkvPagjA1-0xuEmKx1yx7a2vnpdo3EyMJG9kJhXuECSbq_5VNf9C_ZfLvW1dhP3LXP1/s320/026.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
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When the <i>Disposable
House</i> project took to the streets of Guwahati the above notion of shared
space was pronounced largely through the concept of home. Saikia presented
“home” not as a private space or family-owned, static and insular property, but
instead as a mobile, malleable, entity offered up to the public. The
performance began at Jyoti Chitraban accompanied by the auspicious undertones
of a <i>hariddhwani</i> prayer. Following the prayer, Saikia, alongside the
Baroda-based painter and multi-media artist Anuradha Upadhyaya, started the
procession through the city towards the Bramaputra with blooming lotus flowers
in hand “to purify the space ”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn8" name="_ftnref8" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[8]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>.A
group of artists involved in the Regional Arts Performance Events, themselves
followed by a truck carrying a group of local musicians, joined the procession
next as the musicians in the truck began playing <i>dotara</i> and singing <i>dehatatwa</i>
songs (Bengali songs that deal with themes of the body). Finally, the five
homes on auto rickshaws made of mixed materials, including timber, clay and
hay, joined in the procession. Each house invoked a concept: sufi house, urban
house, house of displacement, house of social norms and Kankhowa’s House (or the
body house of an Actor). And each house was covered by paintings suggestive of
its respective theme, which were made collaboratively by artists from across
Delhi, Baroda and Guwahati.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The procession of these
transient, communal, and pliable homes through the heart of Guwahati situated
both artists and unexpected spectators within a complicated and multilayered
engagement with history and memory in the public space of the city. Guwahati,
which is the major metropolis as well as the primary commercial and transit corridor
of the Northeastern State of Assam, reverberates with complex layers of social and
political history. Assam, which shares international borders with Bhutan and Bangladesh,
makes up the core of Northeastern India, a region geographically connected to
the rest of the country only by a narrow twenty-kilometer-wide passage. This
tenuous geographical location in relation to the rest of the nation was
underscored by the “subnational” politics that took shape during the Assamese
insurgency movement, which reached its height in the late 1980s and was largely
suppressed through the often-violent counter-insurgency of the Indian army.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn9" name="_ftnref9" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[9]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thus, the notion of who is
“at home” in Assam is fraught with historical and geographical tensions.
Interlinked with the politics of Assam’s position in relation to the Indian
nation-state, and claims over who has rights to this “homeland,” there are also
various tensions regarding immigration. From 1979-85 the “Assam Movement” campaigned
against the Indian government’s alleged policy of admitting “foreigners” tothe
area. The campaign leaders argued that immigrants from foreign countries,
mostly from Bangladesh (Formerly East Pakistan) and Nepal, were illegal aliens
unless given citizen status by the state. These accusations led to ethnic
violence and ultimately to the acquired citizenship and systematic deportation.
In his book, <i>India Against Itself: Assam and the Politics of Nationality</i>,
Sanjib Baruah offers a critical analysis of the interconnectedness between
Assamese subnationalism, immigration and colonial history. Not only did Assam’s
immigration politics sustain a crisis in governmental legitimacy (linked to the
perceived failure of Assam to resolve its immigration policies), it also further
perpetuated tension between so-called “indigenous” and “immigrant groups.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn10" name="_ftnref10" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[10]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Moreover, through the Armed Forces Special Powers Act of 1958 (AFSPA), which granted
special power to the army in so-called “disturbed” areas of India, surveillance
and control methods began to be used that were based on ethnic profiling to
distinguish between “ethnic,” “immigrant” or “tribal” communities.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Baruah’s larger argument
situates these more recent politics of immigration (as well as the Assamese
subnational narrative and its counter-narratives) within Assam’s colonial
history by demonstrating the ways in which colonial geography shaped projects of
personhood in Assam. Once Assam became a part of British India and the
pan-Indian economic sphere, colonial policymakers encouraged immigration to
increase settlement. Moreover, the immigration issue wrestles with unavoidable
historical problems: the treatment of India’s Muslim minority population and
what many see as an unavoidable legacy of India’s partition in 1947, and
India’s de facto obligation to allow Hindu refugees from Pakistan to settle in
India. As Baruah notes, “India’s policy on immigration is framed by a
pan-Indian formulation problem.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn11" name="_ftnref11" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[11]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Moreover, Baruah’s analysis
of the way the legacies of colonialism persist in contemporary politics of
place in Assam challenges misreadings of Assam within the global media where violence
is all too often presented as some type of failure of the “Third-World” to
achieve democracy, or, in India in particular, as problems relegated to “troubled”
areas such as the Northeast. Baruah’s historical account demonstrates how in this
region “violence is about the contradictions of the many worlds created by
modernity rather than about a place or a people being left behind of
modernity.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn12" name="_ftnref12" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[12]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
To that end, narratives that construct Assam as a place and people “left
behind” efface a more nuanced understanding of the plurality of place and
people in the regions – that is, Assam’s many <i>homes</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This survey of Assam’s
recent socio-political history should not lead us to view Guwahati through a
simplistic frame that reduces the character of the city to a violent or tumultuous
political history. At the same time, however, an understanding of the politics of
immigration and subnationalism in Assam remain necessary for responding to <i>Disposable
House</i>’s call to think about the concept of home. Tending to this recent
past enables a perspective that implicates actor, spectator, critic, city and
state in shared social space and contests the frequent effacement of these
public histories.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Disposable House</i> enters the public space of Guwahati and
its histories by simultaneously aesthesticizng and politicizing the concept of
home. “Home” becomes part-protest, part-ritual, part-celebration and, as such,
it is offered up to the space of the city and its “public,” which includes all
parties participating in the performance as well as any person on the street
who encounters the procession. The body-house becomes a metaphor not only for
the actor’s body but the social body as well. Of the five houses, the body-house
of the actor (or Kankhowa’s house) is the last in the procession. The concept of
the body-house unfolds largely through the conceptual foil of <i>The Body House
of the Actor </i>text, which, as I said, is read near the procession’s end at
the edge of the Brahmaputra. In the text the notion of an interconnected actor
and spectator are illustrated through the concept of cohabitation. Through
cohabitation the actor and spectator are merged into one indistinguishable
entity. By describing the body as a house within which many inhabitants reside,
Kankhowa suggests that this body-house is so full one cannot enter it. This
shared space is foregrounded by a shared act of seeing:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDAUZPE_ucJdjptb7jQ4JdpA0Dws7JWoQvWLuLv0k_fNsPuRe1ZGBZ-38l-tZweowc40RbrpFzVHl9Mz1gq9DpMewifLrbOEUpGQ8NIObuVmkG8lgFR24vSJe3ALi7qq3sQJv0pyI9ON7J/s1600/1349681083.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDAUZPE_ucJdjptb7jQ4JdpA0Dws7JWoQvWLuLv0k_fNsPuRe1ZGBZ-38l-tZweowc40RbrpFzVHl9Mz1gq9DpMewifLrbOEUpGQ8NIObuVmkG8lgFR24vSJe3ALi7qq3sQJv0pyI9ON7J/s320/1349681083.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
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I am an actor. Before and after being an
actor, I am a spectator.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I see, I can see,<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is important that I should see.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have to see other people looking at me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Therefore, if I am an actor,<o:p></o:p></div>
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there are many spectators inside me. They
share the house with me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That is why I am confused, how many people
live in my house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I lose myself in my own house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My house is so full of people that I
cannot enter my own house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I remember Lalon Fakir. I remember Kabir.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If the actor defines his
own body by the act of being seen by the other, then this same body takes form
and is defined by the gaze of the spectator. As previously noted, the printed
version of this text is accompanied by illustrations. Juxtaposed against these
lines, there is an image of a blue figure sitting on a simple black chair in
the corner of the frame. The figure’s tall thin neck reaches up to the top of
the page and connects to a kite-like string of heads. The heads are faceless
abstract smudges of blue watercolor paint that faintly bleed into the paper.
Interestingly, vision does not belong to any one of the single heads; the
figure has no discernible eyes and neither do any of the individual heads. This
lack of a divided gaze underscores how the figure itself is comprised of a
shared act of seeing. The combined actor-spectator is grounded, and ultimately
formed, by its two legs that touch the floor. This image illustrates a
fundamental relational formation for Disposable Theatre: performer, public, and
space are presented as mutually constitutive.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The postcolonial politics
of immigration and sub-nationalism in Assam foreground the significance of
shared and <i>unshared</i> social and civic space (shared in the sense of coexistence,
and unshared in the sense of unequal distributions of power). Disposable Theatre’s
desire to articulate a notion of shared space does not imply that social space
is a vacuum in which power does not exist, but rather that both actor and
spectator are implicated in the politics of power. Thus, to return to the
earlier discussion of the power dynamics of theater, while a conventional
proscenium theatre places the actor in the authorial seat of power in a
performance, <i>The Body House of the Actor</i> aims to unsettle this dynamic
by demonstrating how it is the spectator’s <i>gaze</i> that forms the very
existence of the actor’s body. In this way, Disposable Theatre cultivates
shared space through the contestatory possibilities of performance as a form of
radical dissent. It contests both the logic of social control and surveillance
through which the state renders space unshared and a model of theatre that
reproduces this logic. To that end, the <i>Disposable House </i>performance
enacts an encounter with difference in a space that is shared between ethnic or
religious “others.” This dimension of the work is underscored through naming
two well-known poets (“I remember Lalon Fakir. I remember Kabir”) who are both associated
with nonsectarian beliefs. In a sense, <i>the structure of The Body House of
the Actor</i> text, as well as the ambiguity of the name Kankowa (which, as
previously noted, both names the artists’ collective and Saikia’s <i>nom de
plume</i>), function as a critical reenactment of Kabir and Lalon’s work.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As noted in my
introduction, Kabir was a fifteenth-century poet born in Varanasi. While there
are many divergent biographies about the legendary poet and his life, it is commonly
understood that during his lifetime he studied with an unknown powerful Hindu
guru, and later became a poet and teacher in his own right (although he did not
achieve wide acceptance or veneration until after his death).<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn13" name="_ftnref13" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[13]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
He is now famous for his rough powerful voice and his critique of rigid
orthodoxies. Several religious sects have produced collections of his works and
his poems have been sung and recited throughout North India for over 500 years.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn14" name="_ftnref14" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[14]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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In the <i>Disposable House</i>
performance, Saikia announces, “Kabir stands at the market place, a burning torch
in his hand, one who has put fire to house may come and walk with me.” Before
reading from the <i>The Body House of the Actor </i>at the <i>Disposable House
performance</i>, Saikia first recites lines of a famous poem attributed to
Kabir,<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I’ve burned my own house down<o:p></o:p></div>
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the torch is in my hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now I’ll burn down the house of anyone <o:p></o:p></div>
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who wants to follow me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This text appears
translated into both English and Hindi at the beginning of the video documentation
of the performance, which Saikia posted on YouTube to extend its public reception.
And, as Linda Hess has noted in the introduction to her translation of Kabir’s poetry
(with Shukdev Singh), this famous couplet expressed Kabir’s emphatic independence
from both of the major religions of his time, Hinduism and Islam, and his “penetration
of everything inessential.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn15" name="_ftnref15" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[15]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Hess explains that for Kabir, “the individual must find the truth in his own
mind and body so that the line between ‘him’ and ‘it’ disappears.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn16" name="_ftnref16" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[16]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
To the extent that the burned house represents Kabir’s denouncement of a worldly
and sectarian identity, <i>Disposable House</i> invites others to do the same. Telling
the crowd that Kabir “stands in the marketplace,” as Saikia himself similarly
stands in the street, the artist invites others to walk with him as they begin
their procession through the marketplace and towards the river to dispose of
the houses.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A famous story about Kabir
is worth noting here. It tells of his Hindu and Muslim followers fighting over
the ownership of the poet’s body after his death. Before any real violence
ensues, however, someone takes off the shroud to discover that a heap of flowers
has replaced the cadaver. The two groups agree to divide the flowers and each group
goes off to burn or bury them according to their respective ritual. The story, considered
inter-textually alongside <i>Disposable House</i>, offers neither a synthesis
nor transcendence of religious identity, but rather a foregrounding of the
necessity, urgency, and efficacy of performative practice. It is the
diffusiveness of Kabir’s body that precludes exclusive ownership by either community.
As such, it enables each group to enact a sense of belonging and attachment
through the performance of religious ritual. As is the case with Kankowa’s body
and the actor’s body in <i>The Body House of the Actor</i>, Kabir’s body
belongs to many people and inhabits many places.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The very notion of the
body-house resonates with poetic metaphors used by the second poet mentioned in
the text of <i>The Body House of the Actor</i>, Lalon Fakir (also known as
Lalon Shah). Lalon was a nineteenth-century poet who was thought to have lived
in what is the present-day Kushtia District of Bangladesh (formerly part of
Nadiya District, India) where he died in 1890. No other Baul poet is as famous
as Lalon in Bangladesh and India, and he is one of the most well-known in the
West as well.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn17" name="_ftnref17" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[17]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
His fame is partly due to Rabindranath Tagore, whose thoughts and writing
during the <i>Swadeshi</i> movement where largely influenced by the Bauls. In
1915-1916 Tagore published twenty poems of Lalon in the literary journal <i>Prabasi</i>
bringing them to the attention of middle-class, Bengali society. Lalon’s status
as a cultural symbol was tied in part to his strictly nonsectarian belief that
eschewed any birth religion, believing, in Tagore’s words, that the only
religion is “the religion of man.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn18" name="_ftnref18" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[18]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Lalon’s poems were composed
in colloquial Bengali and used imagery from everyday activities such as
farming, fishing, and even home foreclosure, as metaphors for one’s spiritual
life. Often, his poems used the metaphor of a house for the body. As scholar of
Lalon, Carol Salomon, notes,<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is often the case with dehatattva
songs. The body may be depicted as a house with two pillars (legs), nine rooms
the cakras; although the standard Hindu tantric system lists seven, they can
vary in number depending on the tradition, a basement (muladhar), and an attic
(sahasrar) in which a madman who is the Lord sits; or a bird cage with nine
doors, housing an unknown bird (the soul); or a broken-down boat constantly
leaking water (semen); or a tree of beauty that produces moon fruit
(offspring). Everything from a watch to the city Mecca has been used in Baul
songs to symbolize the body.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn19" name="_ftnref19" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[19]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This is evident in works
such as <i>Dhanya dhanya boli tare</i>, which Salomon interprets as nine or ten
modifying doors that stand in for the nine or ten openings of the body. Lalon writes:<o:p></o:p></div>
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I've got to hand it to the fellow<o:p></o:p></div>
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who built a house like this,<o:p></o:p></div>
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with its foundation up in the sky!<o:p></o:p></div>
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The house has just two pillars, no more,<o:p></o:p></div>
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and their bases aren't attached to the
floor.<o:p></o:p></div>
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How will this house stay in one piece,<o:p></o:p></div>
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when it's battered by a raging storm?<o:p></o:p></div>
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It has a basement and nine rooms,<o:p></o:p></div>
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even an attic at the very top.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There a madman sits,<o:p></o:p></div>
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in solitude, the sole Lord.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Upstairs and downstairs,<o:p></o:p></div>
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one after the other,<o:p></o:p></div>
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are nine and a half doors.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The conceptual layer of
this poem that is particularly relevant to the <i>Body House of the Actor</i>
is the composite and porous nature of the body illustrated through the home’s multiple
levels and doors. Saikia reenacts Lalan’s notion of the body-house to illustrate
a model of an actor who is made of many parts that are open to, and composed
of, the spectator. This multiplicity undermines the notion of an insular and
fixed actor who opens up his mouth to deposit knowledge into others. The
entryways and doors of thesebodies not only invite the other to enter, but
suggest that he/she is already inside. Such co-mingling of bodies suggests that
dialogue and narrative is not transmitted by the actors to the public, but
activated through an already interconnected relationship. The body-house acts
as a theoretical model for participation, which also allows for the subversion of
dominant relational dynamics. It argues, paradoxically, that while a passerby
on the street encountering the performance may appear “passive,” he/she is
fundamentaly intertwined through the very act of spectatorship, and thus,
invited into the performance and its critique.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This invitation for others
to enter into the “body-house” of critique – or rather to recognize that they
are already a part of it – is illustrated in elaborate detail in the watercolor
images in the <i>Body House of the Actor text</i>. The watercolors depict
porous bodies, melded with others, reappearing in various forms of intimate
interconnectivity. One image in particular shows a multi-part figure, drawn
with overlapping lines, that has two eyes shared between three mouths. The
figure’s hands grasp a torso composed of a<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUotcJ2V0whKUaKuuFbOyPOIxIlnZKl8M6jjhme0xuzANnH_NnpGmNtXaUlnOQ5fdCOshH_YwZZHXa3F9PwpfCHC9XZIPWrtE8p4p18lmqHFtYlGfTtHKu4WoCqSo4GjH8rMhiJevTBfcP/s1600/Disposable+House+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUotcJ2V0whKUaKuuFbOyPOIxIlnZKl8M6jjhme0xuzANnH_NnpGmNtXaUlnOQ5fdCOshH_YwZZHXa3F9PwpfCHC9XZIPWrtE8p4p18lmqHFtYlGfTtHKu4WoCqSo4GjH8rMhiJevTBfcP/s320/Disposable+House+002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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framed image of a house.
Residing in the background are a cityscape and a tree, whose branches house an
abundance of birds. Here the actor, made of many people, offers up his/her own
body, the body-house, to the city and its inhabitants. This “offering up” of the
body-house to others is further underscored by the collaborative nature of <i>Disposable
House</i>, which Saikia attempts to realize through the collaborative paintings
on the houses and the participation of the auto-rickshaw drivers, local
musicians, the various artists and interested spectators who walk along the
streets in the procession, and ultimately the homeless Guwahati residents who
repossess the house structures.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Interpreted from a
politicized standpoint, this collaborative, non-individualistic approach to
performance and art-making resonates strongly with the theories of the Communist
playwright, actor, and performance theorist Safdar Hashmi (as discussed in the
previous chapter). As we have seen, Hashmi became famous as a powerful advocate
of Street Theatre in India, was part of the Indian People’s Theatre
Association, and became one of the founder members of the Jana Natya Manch
(JANAM) in Delhi in 1973. More relevent in this context, Hashmi’s work involved
activist-based performances that were done in the streets in front of large
public audiences that addressed a variety of<o:p></o:p></div>
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social and political
concerns. JANAM famously performed <i>Machine</i> for a trade union meeting of
over 200,000 workers in 1978. This performance was followed by series of public
performances through the late 1970s and 1980s that sought to raise awareness of
the position of marginalized communities with respect to topics such as
violence against women (in <i>Aurat</i>, 1973), the poverty of peasant
communities (in <i>Gaon Se Shahar Tak</i>, 1978), and unemployment (<i>Teen
Crore</i>, 1979).<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn20" name="_ftnref20" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[20]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
When Hashmi was brutally assassinated in 1989 during the performance of his
public street play <i>Halla Bol</i>, he became a powerful cultural symbol of
artistic resistance against the state. The Safdar Hashmi Memorial Trust
(SAHMAT) was founded the same year in his name and continues this day to serve
as a space of support for a young generation of performance artists.<o:p></o:p></div>
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During his lifetime, Hashmi
also wrote prolifically on street theatre, outlining his theoretical and
political understandings of the stakes of public performance. His critique of a
self-contained, individualistic notion of the actor and artist is most clearly
articulated in his 1983 essay “The Enchanted Arch: On the Individual and
Collective Views of Art.” Like Sircar, Hashmi was critical of the notion of
proscenium theatre, but for different reasons. While Hashmi himself was known
to participate in proscenium plays, he was constantly forced to defend the
artistic legitimacy of street theatre, and was highly critical of the mythical
power given to the stage. For Hashmi, the notion of the individual actor thought
to contain coveted insights on existence was linked with a selective
sanctification of the proscenium theatre. “Here the proscenium is being seen as
a kind of enchanted archway to the region of divine inspiration, creativity or
the wherewithal in which the drama of profound analysis of man, love and death
is born. The proscenium becomes, as it where, the tree of wisdom under which
every Gautam becomes a Buddah.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn21" name="_ftnref21" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[21]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
To counter this notion, Hashmi challenged the valorization of the proscenium
space, suggesting that it, like any space, is “empty” until it is brought to
life by performance. By empty, of course Hashmi does not mean emptied from
socio-political dynamics, but empty in the sense that the space is inert until
artistic movement reactivates it. But space is truly activated only through
collective action. In that same essay, Hashmi identified what he saw as a
“definite and irresolvable contradiction between the bourgeois individualist
view of art and the people’s view of art.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn22" name="_ftnref22" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[22]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Such commitment to the individual, and consequent anxiety about collaboration,
makes the artist unable to offer up a real critique of the state. Because the
bourgeois artist/actor places faith in the individual and fears collective
voice, he/she ultimately falls victim to the “mythic power of the instrument of
production.”<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn23" name="_ftnref23" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[23]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
The instrument of production, here being, the artist or actor himself as
expressed directly through his chosen medium.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The notion of the
body-house offered by Saikia provides a contemporary architectural and
corporeal metaphor, which undermines the mythic valorization of the individual
actor and the proscenium stage. Instead of limiting artistic production to the space
of the illusionistic stage, the body itself is understood as a house that
carries with it every possibility of performance. Moreover, this porous and
mobile body-house, with its many open doors and windows, is formed through its
dependence on elements from the outside, which paradoxically build-up the
structure from within. This interconnected relationship between the inside and
the outside, the actor and spectator, forms the very basis of Disposable
Theatre. Through a collaborative model, it allows for conflicting positionalities
and dissenting voices.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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As <i>Disposable House</i>
and the theories on which it is based suggest, this collaboration is possible
because both the body and the theatre are disposable. They do not <i>belong</i>
to any space, group or individual. They come alive only through the process of
disposal. This evokes religious practices from both Islam and Hinduism. In the
Islamic tradition <i>ta'zīya</i>, mobile mausoleums built as replicas of Imam
Hussein's mausoleum in Karbala, are used in ritual processions by Shi’a Muslims
during the mourning month of Muharram. Similar to the <i>Disposible House</i>
project, <i>ta'zīyas</i> vary in shape and size, and carried in a procession
through the streets. Although some ta'zīyas were originally madeof precious
materials for royal and wealthy patrons, to be housed permanently, the majority
of <i>ta'zīyas</i> are of kind of disposable art made of wood and bamboo for
the frame and tin foil, colored paper, mica and glass for the ornament on the
exterior. This <i>Disposible House</i> also resonates with Hindu ritual during <i>Durga
Pooja</i> in which the goddess Durga is processed through the street and
ultimately placed in the river to float away. Both practices include a
component of public process that ultimately leads to a ephemeral sacrifice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This intersection of
disposability and collectivity is further reiterated through the work’s
engagement with performance-based rituals in Assam, particularly those that
take place during the harvest festival of Bhogali (or Magh Bihu). During
Bhogali, temporary houses called <i>bhela-ghor</i> are built for the harvest
celebration. On the night of the community feast, <i>uruka</i>, people gather
together for a collectively prepared meal and everyone spends the night inside
the <i>bhela-ghor</i>. At dawn, as community members offer prayers for a
bountiful harvest the following year, these “disposable houses” are burned down
and their ashes are scattered on the earth, either on the edge of the city, or
in the open space of the rural country.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In these festivals, the
disposal of the home becomes the generative possibility of the following year’s
abundance. The <i>bhela-ghor</i> homes underscore Saikia’s aim to create a
cultural symbol for the public linked to community-based and collective
practices that express a desire for regeneration. Appropriately than, even
though the homes were originally intended to be released into the Bramaputra
(similar to the procession and immersion of Durga during <i>Durga Pooja</i>),
the houses in the 2012 performance were given to local residents, who live near
the river and had inquired after the homes and their materials. Instead of
being submerged into the river, they were instead submerged into the
environment and re-appropriated as domestic structures by the people of
Guwahati. Thus, the materials of the homes, like the ashes of <i>bhela-ghor</i>,
are scattered through the land and given over to the community.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
The second lives of these
homes, made possible only after their disposal, speaks also to Disposable
Theatre’s commitment to radical critique. Both ritual invocations—the harvest
festival and the <i>Disposable House Project</i>—emphasize the disposable,
ephemeral nature of the body-houses, which are moved through the city, and
later turned over at the banks of the river to make way for something greater
expressed by the work’s underlying non-sectarian message and its critique of
the state’s role in intolerance. At the edge of the river when Saikia reads
Kabir’s line, “one who has put fire to their house, may come and walk with me”
he underscores this message of both subversion and unification. The idea being
that whoever is able to let go of attachment to his or her own identity,
religion or ethnicity (“who has put fire to their house”) may come and walk in
solidarity. These lines echo the act of offering-up homes to the river in <i>Disposable
House</i>, which performatively suspends classification, regulation and
intolerance on the basis of identity in favor of a fleeting moment in which the
city both venerates and turns over its conflicting desires for home. The
complexity involved in Saikia’s work is that one sets fire to one’s own home
not to obliterate or subsume difference, but rather to challenge the ways power
depends on these categories and to demonstrate a relinquishment of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
While Saikia’s work
ultimately aims to promote tolerance, it would be reductive and naïve to
suggest the underlying message of <i>Disposable House</i> is for everyone in Guwahati
to simply transcend their differences, and see that they belong to the same spiritual
home. Instead, <i>Disposable House</i>, as an activist intervention, offers a
much more complex model of pluralism in its critique of state power, one, which
I believe, harkens back to a model of interconnected habitation offered by
Saikia’s poetic description of a body-house as a space of both belonging and
difference.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
It is valuable to note also
the ways in which Saikia’s performance perhaps “failed” to project the cultural
inclusivity and pluralism of his own philosophy. Saikia, who walked through the
streets with a bare chest, wore only a <i>lungi</i>, and performed devotional
rituals at the start of the procession, took on the character of a Brahman
priest or holy man, which evoked the presence of a figure who is ultimately
upper caste and Hindu. This important to consider not to disparage Saikia’s
work, but to think of the limitations of the body as a text in the
socio-political public sphere, and the complex reception of the artist’s body.
Saikia chose to present himself as a figure according to his own religious
background, and utilized an ethnic and religious subject-position that maintains
a level of acceptance and privilege within Guwahati’s socio-political landscape.
In this sense, even Saikia’s own intention of inclusivity, which he aimed to evoke
through the reading of Kabir, was perhaps less visible through the
representational presentation of the body itself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
To that end, the expository
and site-specific nature of “disposable theater” managed to produce unexpected
elements that transcended its own representational failings. In the final stage
of the performance, near the banks of the river, as Saikia read his “Body House
of the Actor” poem out-loud in preparation for the immersion of the body-houses
into the water, local homeless residents expressed their sense that it was wasteful
for the artists to simply dispose of stable housing materials in a purely
symbolic gesture. The group of residents who approached Saikia was of a mixed
ethnic and religious demographic, both Hindu, Muslim.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn24" name="_ftnref24" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[24]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Both individually, and as a group, the residents rearticulated finale of the
performance, as well as the significance of the body house itself. While the
initial aim of performance was to dispose of the body-house in the river as a
spiritual expression of a unified tolerance critical of the state’s insistence
on ethnic differentiation, this untenable ideal was rewritten in the midst of
the performance as dissenting residents envisioned the work as having an
entirely different value, despite the potentially less religiously inclusive
role projected by the artist himself. The body house was reworked within its
own framework of dissent and ultimately reformulated through the critique
offered by the homeless residents.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
The ultimately goal was not
to achieve an ideal of cultural harmony, but rather, to give the performance up
to the body-house of the city so that it might foster critical dialogue. While
it was initially conceived symbolically to express the connectivity of people
in Guwahati through an ephemeral act that expresses a relinquishment of the homes
of identity, religion, nationality, and political allegiance, the intervention
of local residents instead restructured its symbolic and material value in the
construction of actual new homes in the city. When the performance shifted
after its direct encounter with an unsuspecting critical audience, the
body-house redefined cohabitation through an ever malleable notion of home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
In the chapter that follows
I will turn towards one of Saikia’s predecessors, Ratnabali Kant, a performance
artist who was primarily active in the 1980s-90s. Kant’s practice of
“installation performance” further demonstrates a similar value given to
thecontinuous process of destruction, disposal and rebuilding, as fostered in
Saikia’s <i>Disposable House Project</i>.
While Kant and Saikia have met at events in Delhi, and are aware of each
other’s work, they have never directly collaborated.<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftn25" name="_ftnref25" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[25]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Nonetheless, as we will see, both artists are committed to interrogating
dominant paradigms of difference and othering, and turned towards body-based
practices in search of a malleable form of dissent that gives way to the
creative potential of destruction and renewal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div>
<!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> Samudra Kajal Saikia, “Disposable Theatre: Conceptualizing the
Spectator in Shifting Space,” ArtEtc<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
2.3 (2010):
1-4.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> Ibid., 2.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid., 3.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn4">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> It should be noted that Saikia’s body-house is not like a Hobbesian
body, which aspires towards a<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
shared social contract
binding together the fundamental tenets of liberal democracy. Rather, the
body-house<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
is more akin to the type of
the unfixed antagonism described by Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe in their<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
book Hegemony and Socialist
Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic Politics (1985). Laclau and Mouffe<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
sought to unsettle and
expand the concept of unity and group formation in the face of the pitfalls of
liberal<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
democracy. By providing a
theoretical framework for post-Marxist thought that questions ideals of a<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
subsuming unification,
Laclau and Mouffe offer a radical model of democracy in which antagonism and<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
conflict is sustained
instead of squashed. See: Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe, Hegemony and
Socialist<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Strategy: Towards a Radical
Democratic Politics (London: Verso, 1985) 184. More directly relevent in this context
is Claire Bishop’s frequently cited essay “Antagonism and Relational
Aesthetics,” which uses<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Laclau and Mouffe to
challenge Nicolas Bourriaud’s arguments in his 1998 book Relational Aesthetics.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Bishop examines the work of
Liam Gillick and Rirkrit Tiravanija alongside Laclau and Mouffe’s notion of<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
radical democracy in order
to argue that these works are not simple relational but antagonistic in the
sense<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
that they are not
“intrinsically democratic.” See: Claire Bishop, “Antagonism and Relational
Aesthetics,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
October 110 (2004). I take
a similar position in relation to Samudra Kajal Saikia’s work insofar as that<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
work, while interested in
building unity across communities in Guwahati, is equally interested in<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
cultivating a space in
which dissent and belonging coexist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn5">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> Bidal Sircar, The Third Theatre (Calcutta: Naba Grantha Kutir, 1978)
3.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn6">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref6" name="_ftn6" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[6]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Saikia, “Disposable Theatre:
Conceptualizing the Spectator in Shifting Space,” 4.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn7">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref7" name="_ftn7" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[7]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> Sumudra Kajal Saikia, Regional Art Performance and Events Final Report
(New Delhi: Sumudra Kajal<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Saikia, 2012).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn8">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref8" name="_ftn8" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[8]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn9">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref9" name="_ftn9" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[9]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> Sanjib Baruah, India Against Itself: Assam and the Politics of
Nationality. (Philadelphia: University of<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Pennsylvania Press, 1999),
xiii.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn10">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref10" name="_ftn10" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[10]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid, 117.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn11">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref11" name="_ftn11" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[11]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid, 15.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn12">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref12" name="_ftn12" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[12]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid, xx.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn13">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref13" name="_ftn13" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[13]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Linda Hess and Shujdev Singh. The
Bijak of Kabir. (San Francisco: North Point Press, 1983) 3.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn14">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref14" name="_ftn14" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[14]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid, xi.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn15">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref15" name="_ftn15" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[15]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn16">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref16" name="_ftn16" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[16]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid., 5.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn17">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref17" name="_ftn17" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[17]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Baul refers to a group of mystic
artists/writers/musicians from Bengal (India’s West Bengal and<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Bangladesh). Baul’s are a
heteregenous group with a number of diverse sects that practice similar
mystical<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
beliefs expressed through
religion and/or music.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn18">
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<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref18" name="_ftn18" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[18]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Carol Salomon, Baul Songs.
(Princeton University Press, 1995), 187-188.</div>
</div>
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<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref19" name="_ftn19" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[19]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid.</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn20">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref20" name="_ftn20" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[20]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
The play titles translate as
follows: Aurut meaning “Woman,” Gaon Se Shahar Tak meaning “From the Village to
the City,” and Teen Crore meaning “30 Million.”</div>
</div>
<div id="ftn21">
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<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref21" name="_ftn21" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[21]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
In the following line Hashmi writes,
“This is of course, pure drivel” to underscore how strong he<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
contests these claims. “The
Enchanted Arch: On the Individual and Collective Views of Art” in The Right<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
to Perform: Selected
Writings of Safdar Hashmi (New Delhi: SAHMAT, 1989). 26.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref22" name="_ftn22" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[22]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid, 29.</div>
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<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref23" name="_ftn23" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[23]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Ibid, 28.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref24" name="_ftn24" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[24]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Syed Taufik Ryaz, interviewed by the
author, Kolkata, May 2, 2012; Samudra Kajal Saikia interviewed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
by the author, New Delhi,
April 13, 2012.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<a href="file:///F:/Master%20Profile/TESTIMONIAL/Chapter%202a.doc#_ftnref25" name="_ftn25" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[25]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Samudra Kajal Saikia, interviewed by
the author, New Delhi, April 13, 2012; Ratnabali Kant,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
interviewed by the author,
New Delhi, April 5, 2012.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-26152410399371963052014-07-21T09:11:00.000-07:002014-07-21T09:11:46.277-07:00‘HABITUALLY HOMED’: EXPLORING THE CONCEPTS OF HOME AND HOUSE THROUGH DISPOSABLE THEATRE AND THE DISPOSABLE HOUSE PROJECT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">This paper was written by Prerana Chaudhury, when she was a Student
and Research Scholar, JNU, Delhi. Prerana is a writer currently based in
Guwahati.</span></h3>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN">‘You
shall not build a house again for me.<br />
All your beams are broken, <br />
the ridgepole is shattered.<br />
The mind has become freed from conditioning: <br />
the end of craving has been reached</span></i><span lang="EN-IN">.<i>’<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-IN">-<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><i><span lang="EN-IN">Siddhartha Gautama<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">I. INTRODUCTION</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">The Disposable House is a project undertaken
by Delhi-based theatre- practitioner and artist Samudra Kajal Saikia.
It largely addresses the concerns of shifting spaces and the thematic of
inhabitation, juxtaposing the clichéd binaries of inside-outside, body-soul,
home-house and public-private. In a global world where such conundrums are
visible everyday and where shadow-lines between individuals, communities and
regions get constructed and de-constructed alternately, Saikia’s effort is to
bring in all these dualities within one homogenous unit of universality; a
universality that does not deny the idiosyncrasies of atomised identities and
their specificities but one that is inspired by the ideal of egalitarianism.
Indeed, such a conception is overtly romantic and he does not deny upon that
fact when questioned about it. But the propositions behind it do not divorce
themselves from socio-political commitments that he endeavours to fulfil
through his art. In many ways the beams of this project lie as much in
contemporary global ethics as in traditional folk roots of Assam. The
credibility of Saikia’s project lies in this very aspect- that it brings
together the macro and the micro seamlessly through faith and creativity. The
art works resonate with spiritualism without being separated from their
political notions. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">‘Disposability’ is one constant theme that
the artist plays with through his art and practice. We can blame it on the
influence he has had by devouring the poetry of medieval Sufi saints like Lalon
Fokir whom he mentions time and about in his own poetry. The metaphor of the
body being the house of the soul is something he derives from the philosophical
renderings of these poets, an idea that blends in with the conviction he has
about art and what art is. Hailing from a family of theatre practitioners in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Assam</st1:place></st1:country-region>, Saikia
remembers growing up identifying with this family vocation, that of a
performer, an identity he embraces and assumes without constraint. It is
through this inherited identity that he takes on his personal quest for
self-discovery; the body of the actor in him becomes the vehicle for his
sojourn to seek his primary soul-identity. The search for an identity through
layers of human identities we assume everyday in a complex multicultural world
of today is what comprises this phenomenological drive. The Disposable House
Project also instigates me to think in the direction of what purpose art really
serves in a post post-modern sort of world, are we really in need of moving out
and ahead of the fragmentation that post-modern art and theory have come to
endorse and uphold in jubilation? Is art not necessary to be situated inside a
society that is constantly being torn apart by violence and difference such
that it can in some way redeem the fragments and pull them to form a ‘whole’,
even if on a purely creative level? The question about whether art serves any
moral purpose has been debated and discussed throughout history. In stressing
for a realm of art that would not adhere to the narrow concerns of social
hierarchies and bourgeois norms, and instead bring it out of spaces like the
gallery, makes Saikia’s approach to art democratic and inclusive. The idea that
performances and art works are disposable is very traditional; it is liberating
in its non-reproductivity and captures Peggy Phelan’s idea that it is the
disappearance and tracelessness of performance that gives it its unique
characteristics by setting it free from the bases on which capitalisation of
art takes place. It is disappearance, also, that privileges non-structured and
organic aspects of memory and reconstruction of remembered images in retrospect
through selective cognition that makes every individual viewer and participant
of that event unique. Saikia concept of disposable theatre- theatre encompasses
one-time performances without repetitions and encompasses this very idea. According
to him, a performance does not render any special privilege to the
actor-performers; the performative ambience outstretches the contributions of
merely the performers to accumulate the viewers in that they are present and
viewing the ‘enactment’. Every performance event, he says, is of particular
value and flavour which is achieved through a collective mode, of actors and
viewers alike, each of them a performative participant. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">II. ‘THE HOUSE AL<st1:stockticker w:st="on">LOWS</st1:stockticker>
ONE TO DREAM IN PEACE’</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"> I
shall elaborate on a disposable theatre performance that was undertaken under
the Disposable House Project as a part of a series of performances called
‘Inhabiting the Museum’. Called HouseHOLD (with a bolded emphasis on the
‘hold’), the performance was ‘enacted’ on <st1:date day="27" month="11" w:st="on" year="2011">27<sup>th</sup> November 2011</st1:date> at Kiran Nadar
Museum of Art. The museum is a public space that houses objects of antiquity
with distinct ‘historical’ value. It is a systematic organisation and
representation of collective memory through which narratives of dominant
history get created and in turn, absorbed by common people who frequent these
spaces. We who visit a museum space are not contributors to it in any manner;
we play the role of passive receptors of knowledge and information that it
posits ‘objectively’ as history. What is history if not institutionalised
memory, memory that is selective and biased? The archives that form a part of
and parallely create public memory are ones that also silence and keep in
shadows the voices of the larger community of marginalized. Is not the
discipline of history in itself a process of ‘museumisation’? </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">The performance of HouseHOLD began not just
on the evening scheduled for its performance but on the preceding night itself
when the performers stayed overnight in the museum seeking to appropriate this
space into a ‘domestic’ sphere, if only temporarily. The onslaught of the
performers’ bodies into this space that resigns itself to a non-ordinary,
condensed form of existence ritually ‘cleanses’ it of its proclaimed civic role
and makes it a liminal sphere wherein all its members share an equal communal
status. Within the time span of the performance, time, that is otherwise frozen
and static inside a museum space, begins to move as in everyday life. There is
movement of performers and viewers inside it, everyone contributing to the
‘personalisation’ of the public space and imbuing it marks of oral records. For
the performance once over the museum assumes back its structural role yet
significantly and radically enough, HouseHOLD has added to its history a moment
of intervention- political and artistic- which cannot be rubbed off from its
timeline. The concept of civilisation always displays comfort with the idea of
categories; and these demarcations between different social groups are created
by the polarity between ‘more’ and ‘less’. The ideology postulated through
disposability is to counter such categorisation through art and acknowledging
how every individual, on whichever side of ascertained power equations
governing social existence, is a maker of history. That public memory and
collective remembrance of the past can move beyond codified history and museum
walls by countering such formulations with individual memories and experiences is
what the notion of the ‘disposable’ encapsulates. There is a metamorphosis of
the self when it steps out of the marginalised edges it is relegated to in
society, and makes a movement into the interior. Saikia’s endeavour in artistic
practice is essentially a journey into this direction to resurface lost accounts
of suppressed histories and oppressed communities. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">Coming back to the description of the
performance per se, each visitor of the performance was given a stamp-mark on
his wrist with a potato-cut, another household object. Musical instruments
comprised of utensils, pressure cookers, buckets and tins. Once inside the
museum, visitors are supposed to take little cut-out boxes of ‘wish-fulfilment
houses’; this, alongwith the potato-stamp mark, makes the performance
ritualistic. As a ritual process it accommodates viewers and performers alike,
uniting both into Turner’s notion of the <i>communitas</i>. The fact that these
wish-fulfilment houses are tokens that accompany the viewer back to his/ her
home after the performance concludes is meant to signify art as continuum. Like
memory, these tokens are residues of the performance that has disappeared now,
though in a tangible form. If located inside Phelan’s framework of the ontology
of performance, Saikia’s attempt to hold onto that which has been performed in
a more corporeal manner might be equated with the act of writing about a
performance, to which Phelan does no lend support as it makes the performance
traceable. The hierarchy in her proposed theory of performativity is between a
performance that can be reproduced and that which cannot be, situating the
latter above the former. The HouseHOLD performance resonates the idea of
transience but which can be recalled through, traced back in memory more
concretely through the token-house, an object that physically itself lends
itself to the viewer-participants personal sphere- like his/ her home- and
manifests itself in an active construction of the performance-memory simply by
virtue of its presence. The idea of continuum is further suggested by the
absence of curtain call or definitive conclusion to the performance. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">One important section of the performance
which personally struck me is when the actor-performers bring in boxes which
they then begin to open in full view, revealing striking paintings done inside
each. This scene is emblematic of the movement towards interiority for
self-discovery that has already been mentioned about. That aside, it is the
call for digging into untold versions of history that are kept locked-up by the
self-proclaimed shenanigans of society, the ones who occupy positions of power.
Besides the spiritual dimensions of Saikia’s artistic pursuit, his commitment
is also towards the resurgence of his cultural roots from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Assam</st1:place></st1:country-region>, one of
the seven northeastern states of the country that has been constantly surviving
on the peripheries of nationalistic discourses. Folk motives abound in his
paintings which consistently reflect a blurring of the figures or their faces,
an ambiguity that is symptomatic of the ‘outsider’s’ understanding about this
region of the country. The ‘house’ in all civilisational narratives has been
given a superior status, an abode is signifier of privilege not just in terms
of a physical construct that gives shelter but also as an emotional space- a
‘home’- that nourishes the individual’s well-being. Yet, a ‘house-home’ is
identified only as a static building that is rooted to one particular place
which leads to the identification of nomadic communities as essentially
homeless. This unquestioned fusion of the concepts of home and house
commodifies the more emotional, organic and non-structured idea of ‘home’.
Discourses surrounding the house-construct do not accept liminal tropes of the
tent or similar other make-shift spaces that could also provide for as houses
to some people or communities, because of the disposable nature that
accompanies them which doesn’t fit into comfort zones of the bourgeoisie. The
idea of disposability is edgy and unacceptable to the façade of progress and
development that societies crave to create and sustain. The dispossessed and
homeless are therefore reduced to peripheral existence in an unequal society; a
series of migrant labourers in the city’s construction sites were interviewed
as a part of this project. They survive on the fringes as an irony, their
makeshift tents of tin and tarpaulin standing in sharp construct to the massive
buildings they help construct. The example of these labourers provides for a
bigger metaphor- it is to say how history and society has always been created
by the powerful few by subjugating the rest. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">I shall now trace the idea of a disposable house
to an Assamese ritual that is performed during Bhogali or Magh Bihu, the
harvest festival celebrated during the month of January. Temporary, disposable
houses called <i>bhela-ghor</i> are built for this celebration. On the night of
the community feast called <i>uruka</i>, people of the neighbourhood gather
together for the feast which is prepared in the open air by several people
together, followed by the entire community eating the meal cooked of newly
harvested rice and several other traditional dishes. Then everyone spends the
night inside the <i>bhela-ghor</i> and early the next morning, these houses are
burned down to the accompaniment of prayers for a bountiful harvest the
following year. The ash of the burnt-down houses is spread in the fields.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">The essence of time being circular is still
prevalent in folk narratives, unlike the teleological format of forward
progression that mainstream models of history endorse. Disposability isn’t a
threatened within a circular understanding of time; the disposed, the
destroyed, contribute to rebirth and reawakening. Within traditional knowledge,
therefore, the disposability isn’t permanent disappearance from the schema of
social history; it is needed, on the contrary, for new creations. Here is a
poem by Siddhartha Sankar Kalita on <i>bhela-ghor</i> (translated from
Assamese):</span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On the eve of Magh Sankranti<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We used to make Bhelaghar.<span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We made the structure out of unripe bamboo beams<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And laying the hay over it,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When the harvesting is over,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We challenged each other on our skills of making the house<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">...and the grand feast was in the evening.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A little prayer was on our palms the
next morning.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And then<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fire!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A grand fire event would happen,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11pt;">Burning our house down in no time,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The craft of our immature hands were disposed<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When we were grown ups<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Many colourful thoughts<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Started building a house within ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That was burnt by the fire of our youth<span style="color: blue;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We were burnt, we were hurt<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11pt;">But flamboyant</span></i><i><span lang="EN-IN" style="color: red; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">thoughts
started building<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A house inside.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A thought can generate another in
itself.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11pt;">So</span></i><i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> even after
the destructions<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We thought of this<span style="color: red;"> </span>house as a permanent
one, a concrete one.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was just another story
of<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11pt;">The Bhelaghar<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Made with our unripe hands...<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">The poem demonstrates how building thoughts
and memories are in themselves disposable, shifting processes that do not have
any fixity but are organic and free-flowing according to the whims of the mind.
Building the <i>bhela-ghor</i> is a community process, a ritual activity. It is
the core construct of the ritual feast of Bhogali Bihu within which the people
live and set it aflame soon after; in this manner the house or the ‘body’
serves only a ritual purpose which is soon to be disposed off following the
fulfilment of its role. The disposable nature of the house doesn’t reduce its
significance within the festival or in the context of an overall Assamese
cultural identity. To look at this process of collective house-building also
attacks the notion of individuality that we tend to associate with the space of
a house/ home. The search for a private space inside the house has been a
constant theme/ motif in many modernist texts of Western civilisation, for
instance within existential philosophy or even the feminist movement of early
20<sup>th</sup> century (Virginia Woolf’s writings in ‘A Room of One’s Own’ can
be used as a reference). The corollary to human and spiritual freedom has
always been individual existence; in folk aesthetics and cultural norms we see
that the path to ritual completion and fulfilment has often been a collective,
community process which requires the involvement and contribution of each
individual but without a prejudiced value-system attached to the figure of the
same. This is common not just in the building of ritual-specific houses like <i>bhela-ghor</i>
but also in the building of houses in rural communities for residential
purpose. The alienation between the constructor-builder of house/home we
witness in urban existence is absent in rural areas where even now, huts,
called <i>kheri-ghor</i> in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Assam</st1:place></st1:country-region>,
are still built by people from within the community. This activity is on a
decline with more and more people opting for a concrete house now-a-days. A
building-process which is disappearing can be said to be symbolically
persisting through the cultural norm of the bhela-ghor which has retained its
sanctity and continuum till today. In semi-urban areas, these houses are not
made in a full-fledged manner but often in smaller versions to fulfil the
ritual purpose only. The traditional idea that embraces a communitarian characteristic
of the house/home has been usurped by the urban idea that the house/home is
only an individual, private space. The latter is a ‘materialistic’ space
according to Saikia which accommodates objects and commodities to fill in its
empty spaces and give it the dimension of a ‘home’. According to him is filled
by individual aspirations and the totalitarian experience of everyday urban
life, and ironically reflects itself as the normative space of normal existence
a common person aspires to. In the same stretch of argument, a disposable,
makeshift space in the urban scape will house only the dispossessed and the
‘homeless’. Herein lies the problematic of associating the idea of ‘home’ to
the physical construct of a house. As Bachelard says, ‘…it is not enough to
consider the house as an “object” on which we can make our judgements and
daydreams react. For a phenomenologist, a psychoanalyst, or a psychologist (…),
it is not a question of describing houses, or enumerating their picturesque
features and analysing for which reasons they are comfortable. On the contrary,
we must go beyond the problems of description- whether this description be
objective or subjective, that is, whether it gives facts or impressions- in
order to attain to the primary virtues, those that reveal an attachment that is
native in some way to the primary function of inhabiting. …In every dwelling,
even the richest, the first task of the phenomenologist is to find the original
shell.’<a href="file:///F:/k%20studio%20local/Artist%20Samudra/International%20Award%20for%20Public%20Art/HABITUALLY%20HOMED.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">III. THE BODY-HOUSE OF THE ACTOR</span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">‘I lose myself
in my own house.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">My house is so
full of people that I cannot enter<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">
my own house’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">The metaphor of the body as the dwelling for the soul is common in
the Sufi poetry of Lalon Fokir, Azan Fokir and many others from which Saikia
draws upon. Being an actor, the body-soul dichotomy now manifests itself in the
binary between his self as a common man and the self that belongs to the
performer. The performer-self in him seeks for a liberation that is to
transcend the duality of identities; as a performer his quest is to attain that
level of oneness or union with the soul such that he loses that intense
attachment with the body, it being ‘disposable’. On the contrary, being a
performer results in an acute awareness of the self through the body because it
is through the body that enactments are carried out; without the visible
presence of the body, the performer’s energy would not find any medium to flow
out or to get expressed. It is this paradox that defines the actor’s being.
This idea is also reflected by Barba his article ‘Burning the House’: ‘The
subterranean history of theatre has been my house. I have wandered in its rooms
to discover my professional identity. In its dark corners I have come across my
ancestors and the legacy they have entrusted me with: my roots and my wings.’<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><a href="file:///F:/k%20studio%20local/Artist%20Samudra/International%20Award%20for%20Public%20Art/HABITUALLY%20HOMED.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title="">[2]</a></span></span><a href="file:///F:/k%20studio%20local/Artist%20Samudra/International%20Award%20for%20Public%20Art/HABITUALLY%20HOMED.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><!--[endif]--></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">The body houses the soul and together they create human existence,
memories, thoughts, and ideas and set each other free. A house is not all beams
and poles and walls, it is not then the material objects it houses; it when
ones emotions and sentiments people the physical spaces of the houses that it
becomes a home. For instance, inside one’s house/home too, there is always are
always some specific spots, nooks or rooms where we are most ‘at home’. To
quote Bachelard again- ‘…all really inhabited space bears the essence of the
notion of home… we shall see that the imagination functions in this direction
whenever the human being has found the slightest shelter: we shall see the imagination
build “walls” of impalpable shadows, comfort itself with the illusion of
protection- or, just the contrary, tremble behind thick walls, mistrust the
staunchest ramparts.’<a href="file:///F:/k%20studio%20local/Artist%20Samudra/International%20Award%20for%20Public%20Art/HABITUALLY%20HOMED.doc#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Among the multiple selves that inhabit a person’s body-soul lies the quest for
the true soul, the truth of one’s lifetime. That is the task of the
actor-performer; by inhabiting selves in a dispassionate manner, he must keep
the search on. The human tendency is not of detachment but of attachment which
leads to complexity in this search. In his poem ‘Disposed’, the artist says:</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">‘This body of mine is my house. Wherever I go, I carry
this house with me. Or, say, this mobile house brings me within it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 11.0pt;">I cannot go out of this house. If I do, I’m no more an
actor’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0W8XeMeF5fMY-aGBZEEMIneQzQvdG-vFRDggStj7Ks_X3h5zzIAulomIm4JiXJ1APDduXW_v2l8wj_yJauNIocn7Z4bCYVTo9EB5bcyCkowEcn-RhDu_z_t4RENXIEH8v620NYzmz3HJ/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0W8XeMeF5fMY-aGBZEEMIneQzQvdG-vFRDggStj7Ks_X3h5zzIAulomIm4JiXJ1APDduXW_v2l8wj_yJauNIocn7Z4bCYVTo9EB5bcyCkowEcn-RhDu_z_t4RENXIEH8v620NYzmz3HJ/s1600/001.JPG" height="320" width="226" /></a></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-IN">The house-home is an intimate
space; the body-house of a being is, again, a disposable entity. All that it
encompasses within its lifetime, all identities and memorabilia, thoughts and
conceptions, a continuum of our past, familial and cultural, all shall come to
an end with its penultimate disappearance one day. The body can be said to be
the most basic of unit of performativity, hence. To sum in Barba’s words: ‘My
small tradition has confronted me with a question: how to escape the veracity
of the present and preserve a splinter of the past, safeguarding its future? </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-IN">My answer was: tradition doesn’t
exist. I am a tradition-in-life. It materializes and transcends my experiences
and those of the ancestors I have incinerated. It condenses the meetings,
tensions, misapprehensions, dark sides, wounds and the many paths on which I
continuously lose and re-find myself. When I disappear, this tradition-in-life
will be extinguished.’</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
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<a href="file:///F:/k%20studio%20local/Artist%20Samudra/International%20Award%20for%20Public%20Art/HABITUALLY%20HOMED.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span lang="EN-IN"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span lang="EN-IN"> </span>Pp. 4<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="file:///F:/k%20studio%20local/Artist%20Samudra/International%20Award%20for%20Public%20Art/HABITUALLY%20HOMED.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></a><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 150%;">
www.soulamericanactor.com/essaybarba.shtml<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-11723912728468409222013-01-10T22:58:00.000-08:002013-01-10T22:58:03.536-08:00The Body House of an Actor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBLNrZ-HMHIcGYmvjON_UivYYmFGPmighx7B1E-UY7C7p7rEZfOnXSVd-VurVsD74et9ZT21CB4o-fkOeXWIYxvbim7Ry-SZwX4A0Eu9zPXlIbzW4GhifL2Tgiz3uLK5vJqLgvqyYDmgl/s1600/376746_10151222343124179_1665359717_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBLNrZ-HMHIcGYmvjON_UivYYmFGPmighx7B1E-UY7C7p7rEZfOnXSVd-VurVsD74et9ZT21CB4o-fkOeXWIYxvbim7Ry-SZwX4A0Eu9zPXlIbzW4GhifL2Tgiz3uLK5vJqLgvqyYDmgl/s320/376746_10151222343124179_1665359717_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
As an artifact the body constructs its viewers (and their
expectations), while viewers' expectations construct a body's contours...
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actors are probably the only art makers who can be told (in
response to gestures they make with <i>their</i> vocal and physical apparatus, <i>their</i>
own attributes and <i>their</i> responses) by an observer that what they have
palpably executed is not <i>real</i> or <i>truthful</i>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Anuradha Kapur, "Actors Prepare", </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Theatre India, National School of Drama's Theatre
Journal, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">May 2004, Number Nine, ed. by, K S Rajendran, pp.
8-9</span><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnR11DNesAdUJBMU8pQitZpYLcALlxpOOck22pnOa3ZPBN-wzK__bddybBTnkrbHtGXxAZUlmFudbwCeE0dI4pYOhSt3Yi-blOqAoY91UtZTP9o-DuXJLtyZqUnSWMRCUdvEPiME0oZqFd/s1600/1349680649.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnR11DNesAdUJBMU8pQitZpYLcALlxpOOck22pnOa3ZPBN-wzK__bddybBTnkrbHtGXxAZUlmFudbwCeE0dI4pYOhSt3Yi-blOqAoY91UtZTP9o-DuXJLtyZqUnSWMRCUdvEPiME0oZqFd/s320/1349680649.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">House Arrest</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The roof of
Kankhowa’s house leaks</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Thousands of eyes
from the evening sky</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Keep staring at me</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot go out</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot stay in</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rIRqkCqEivmss76w7cKsf_nyIK5xykgiAaHHllM-p9K81VQrBFhZGIGqDHnXBdnXnjTOom6PXttwVZcUBLG96LclccaTjwJhzioaGMnu8hAJZGipWsiyJOxHprplkFFhpu58vltvLG7r/s1600/1349680719.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rIRqkCqEivmss76w7cKsf_nyIK5xykgiAaHHllM-p9K81VQrBFhZGIGqDHnXBdnXnjTOom6PXttwVZcUBLG96LclccaTjwJhzioaGMnu8hAJZGipWsiyJOxHprplkFFhpu58vltvLG7r/s320/1349680719.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">2</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I am an actor</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I am an actor. Very
limited my abilities are.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It’s been a long time
I left home for my studies,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I know a lot of you
share the same story.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But as an actor I
dwell in this particular body.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
This body of mine is
my house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Wherever I go, I
carry this house with me.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Or, say, this mobile
house brings me within it.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot get out of
this house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
If I do, I’m no more
an actor.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes I feel
neither can I enter in this house of mine.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You might laugh at my
words,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But these things have
always disturbed me.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Wf_6tZQodCSFa_hY7YYJcmPzMjX-6DVCiAkN4YYneSz3oIsRl1ognWgZMRhUqLfhCnA3NPUCprlV9iY3DfFJdz4UVhZ09aRalbLTJ3gIVRgGu9WXvfTyNS1dxsRChRs2AjZbnUWoGq87/s1600/1349680815.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Wf_6tZQodCSFa_hY7YYJcmPzMjX-6DVCiAkN4YYneSz3oIsRl1ognWgZMRhUqLfhCnA3NPUCprlV9iY3DfFJdz4UVhZ09aRalbLTJ3gIVRgGu9WXvfTyNS1dxsRChRs2AjZbnUWoGq87/s320/1349680815.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
If acting is an art,
I transform this very body to an art object,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
and present it in
front of you.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
My dear audience,
look, please look at me,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
even now I am doing
the same thing.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Right now I cannot go
out of this space even if I wish to,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot go and take
a nap,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot go out for
some tea.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEQjNRAqPMwD5TerNUAgHh386wC5FD2Y-w3EPVrx2m3mwjsAV6BvlNn8OwiyZxNwLcw0kQ7HGfl6XjOlXdRZ4XLjUKkRJYWKHBfbhyo3MICTWicDiHZtl6bUf6bR7UIaP6KQGnP71IvlN/s1600/1349680884.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEQjNRAqPMwD5TerNUAgHh386wC5FD2Y-w3EPVrx2m3mwjsAV6BvlNn8OwiyZxNwLcw0kQ7HGfl6XjOlXdRZ4XLjUKkRJYWKHBfbhyo3MICTWicDiHZtl6bUf6bR7UIaP6KQGnP71IvlN/s320/1349680884.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">3</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="text-transform: uppercase;">Buy me. Purchase me.</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 66.65pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes I wish if I
were a barber</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And give you a hair
cut</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And if I could make
some money out of it.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I am an actor with
limited abilities.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I know very little
things, very little things I can do</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot fly kites,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot drive,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot play a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dotara</i>,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBuPUUyMD9D4-74Oyo39xymsNgl2_Qa0vhiPm4BJWO8R_i8W_mypBuMZbLwSVKzm2LQomzt9484uUPd4j8dSVLVIENIZZQ2B2CDvgdGMYIkBeYH1mkLImXRTfPk_fM6H5ecERNHDH2r1V/s1600/1349680948.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBuPUUyMD9D4-74Oyo39xymsNgl2_Qa0vhiPm4BJWO8R_i8W_mypBuMZbLwSVKzm2LQomzt9484uUPd4j8dSVLVIENIZZQ2B2CDvgdGMYIkBeYH1mkLImXRTfPk_fM6H5ecERNHDH2r1V/s320/1349680948.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I love you so much
without even knowing you</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I don’t know how much
I will love you after I see you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
hardly can assume</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I don’t know how to
write a poem.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQOLC6Z25M4bc5UP92XMVsP6xCX-4jWEkrXvBtjQZZFcuUX6lnYryQzeJEzr0I0x4tztVKsFXl6nVNatPN2sqGzS9_VMFfichkVuqi7aN0kB9uy6Dkbhj3GEHK0Z5EmqlL04rpvuTx28j/s1600/1349680988.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQOLC6Z25M4bc5UP92XMVsP6xCX-4jWEkrXvBtjQZZFcuUX6lnYryQzeJEzr0I0x4tztVKsFXl6nVNatPN2sqGzS9_VMFfichkVuqi7aN0kB9uy6Dkbhj3GEHK0Z5EmqlL04rpvuTx28j/s320/1349680988.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It would have been
better if I were a farmer.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Or a retailer of
garments.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
To sale my goods and
make money.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Buy me. Purchase me.
I am for sale. I am a commodity.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It would have been
better if I were a painter.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I would have painted
and made money.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But I am just an
actor. A performer.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuk7m0wX5_PgSy1V2NOmB9dnfcnJRAFpgfdsNlX5WhXOnghuhTnxBiKzAeKC3L-xDHmSpmgEiDmvaT-D9TYxYZyoQhepaSG3mJuvcd2IKLCYvj9DYAsP3LCh0RZfhuZgcl60BKDMCYu93M/s1600/1349681040.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuk7m0wX5_PgSy1V2NOmB9dnfcnJRAFpgfdsNlX5WhXOnghuhTnxBiKzAeKC3L-xDHmSpmgEiDmvaT-D9TYxYZyoQhepaSG3mJuvcd2IKLCYvj9DYAsP3LCh0RZfhuZgcl60BKDMCYu93M/s320/1349681040.gif" width="239" /></a> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I turn my body to an
work. I don't make art. This body of mine is an object of art.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Buy me, I want to
make some money.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Buy me.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Purchase me.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I don’t have a house
that I can sell and make money.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot rent a house
to dwell in.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I carry a house, my
body, all the time.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbe2fYwKdVyt-nRMaUubPlWH1JQNR9ye0BlPdvHsy1jdgP4hLf-0WAWd7C3XsACh4CUSx5azGGFDYDtEQJ6O_RARYhgyAWcdIPs0P7vbEfnalpWrzRFTOwuESd7Itku-Ty7kV_GtYz9_5q/s1600/1349681083.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbe2fYwKdVyt-nRMaUubPlWH1JQNR9ye0BlPdvHsy1jdgP4hLf-0WAWd7C3XsACh4CUSx5azGGFDYDtEQJ6O_RARYhgyAWcdIPs0P7vbEfnalpWrzRFTOwuESd7Itku-Ty7kV_GtYz9_5q/s320/1349681083.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I am an actor</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I am an actor. Before
and after being an actor, I am a spectator.</div>
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I see, I can see,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It is important that
I should see.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I have to see other
people looking at me.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Therefore, if I am an
actor,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
there are many
spectators inside me, They share the house with me.</div>
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That is why I am
confused, how many people live in my house.</div>
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I lose myself in my
own house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
My house is so full
of people that I cannot enter my own house.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I remember Lalon
Fakir. I remember Kabir.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYuVNfeO2dNBYjr9-QMGNVNTdQIZzbtKe_6PkbqzdBLLdQhtrchLDLiVN7tHJ3XgtFWBSOckSpKKgCvKS8alW_Afd73hE1LibCE8mWyvbC5WKPRDWuGZ7HUaC64he5QzbII8iDH6XI8tfl/s1600/1349681141.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYuVNfeO2dNBYjr9-QMGNVNTdQIZzbtKe_6PkbqzdBLLdQhtrchLDLiVN7tHJ3XgtFWBSOckSpKKgCvKS8alW_Afd73hE1LibCE8mWyvbC5WKPRDWuGZ7HUaC64he5QzbII8iDH6XI8tfl/s320/1349681141.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">5</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I exit in, I enter out</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
There is somebody
else dwelling inside my house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Neither I can see nor
can I touch, beyond of my knowledge.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Though I hardly know
his name, I can feel his grief.</div>
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We stay in the same
house, but we are far apart.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
No postman ever came,
in search of him.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The telephone never
rang for him.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I mostly buy
vegetables for him as well</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
When I do it for me,
I care for him.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cannot lock my
house while going out</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Since he never comes
out of the house.</div>
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He never sleeps
properly like someone suffering from asthma.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Because of him I too
wake up many times during the night.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9jLY_KvEodPXLKnKwjbnFzIpKjbHHLEgHzlkH0z8NiDxHTmhIeD1RQayfALYj3cL3IsRAoZzazk8Sv17HnKbsC8ynbGXDGAIxPjveGd-pqgkRa6lT0HPdVGU02loCc-5n20LzkMhh_y8r/s1600/1349681223.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9jLY_KvEodPXLKnKwjbnFzIpKjbHHLEgHzlkH0z8NiDxHTmhIeD1RQayfALYj3cL3IsRAoZzazk8Sv17HnKbsC8ynbGXDGAIxPjveGd-pqgkRa6lT0HPdVGU02loCc-5n20LzkMhh_y8r/s320/1349681223.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
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The moment I play the
ektaara, you pick up the percussion</div>
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But who's there to <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>play the false notes, I can't guess.</div>
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You prepare the color
and I paint the canvas with passion</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But who is there to
make it a mess?<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7633423352793266003#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHhYof6vfMDrKqCaPbLeQhQO5XSdNeaoFqtmQ_RoT4Bhls_S3yfkl_JPlG3InAaa7gQ-iGwM7RKmA3vEkeDKh2RzvVfPi4RQG0jsHWV4anxLuTxaF5oaEERtmQ3Dw5fKOiwa1XvfxsLOF/s1600/1349681276.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHhYof6vfMDrKqCaPbLeQhQO5XSdNeaoFqtmQ_RoT4Bhls_S3yfkl_JPlG3InAaa7gQ-iGwM7RKmA3vEkeDKh2RzvVfPi4RQG0jsHWV4anxLuTxaF5oaEERtmQ3Dw5fKOiwa1XvfxsLOF/s320/1349681276.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
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I go in and come out
all the time</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Looking for him,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I go in and come out,
go in and come out.</div>
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And a time comes when
I don’t know, if I am inside or outside.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I exit in, I enter
out.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">6</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">There is a
house inside the house</span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Dear,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Amongst the crowd I
do search for you.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
There
is a house inside the house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
And
there is a house in the house that is again inside the house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
And
there is a house in the house that is inside the house of that house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
And
there is a house inside the house of that house which is inside the house of
that house which is again inside the house of another house….</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
And
then another house inside the…</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pcXYWdVmkJifNifzazdmB_X5FYbjF2Om8pIErs0ZATYX-bOA5kMoFbCGsWe_GgRFWV72KpRHh37v_KPYVcBOQdJ5zy0_VuUlzQAMMJic-CrmeVi839y_6gS6OjE0B3YmPy7b9aJVNXNs/s1600/1349681356.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pcXYWdVmkJifNifzazdmB_X5FYbjF2Om8pIErs0ZATYX-bOA5kMoFbCGsWe_GgRFWV72KpRHh37v_KPYVcBOQdJ5zy0_VuUlzQAMMJic-CrmeVi839y_6gS6OjE0B3YmPy7b9aJVNXNs/s320/1349681356.gif" width="239" /></a> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
I
don’t know which house you live in. where do you inhabit.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
I
enter a house looking for you and you enter another house,</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
I
enter another house and you go inside a different one.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
Thus
I spend my days.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
It’s
been a long time I’m neither inside the house, nor outside actually</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCxsC4aiOgKEQomze4YCTodO6pWuP4CYh2Sa0b-OEIvLF330xLiZRlDX581efiIeFb-xL6sXvRloSEEA1P6pOFYbu_LWbQtZqYxsjZM4UBRJBLLsA8ALBXXgCa8PvYVhaGeRH7-vVJpfb/s1600/1349681411.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCxsC4aiOgKEQomze4YCTodO6pWuP4CYh2Sa0b-OEIvLF330xLiZRlDX581efiIeFb-xL6sXvRloSEEA1P6pOFYbu_LWbQtZqYxsjZM4UBRJBLLsA8ALBXXgCa8PvYVhaGeRH7-vVJpfb/s320/1349681411.gif" width="239" /></a> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
I
don’t know how many houses are there inside my house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
I
don’t even know who built this house.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
I
just know that you are there somewhere</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You are there.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
With a constant
stare.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3epve9-KyB7JY31Pzul_cHt1daAGHTXBZBchC6mu20uCX2IIXnv-ddwjmDXhQRS2qzTgufoOkHL8edWqailRus0igvQBcPb08EXiycCaYlFP6XBDY_weWzgHA8M2jnUISp2eHK1AbCMQ/s1600/1349681531.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3epve9-KyB7JY31Pzul_cHt1daAGHTXBZBchC6mu20uCX2IIXnv-ddwjmDXhQRS2qzTgufoOkHL8edWqailRus0igvQBcPb08EXiycCaYlFP6XBDY_weWzgHA8M2jnUISp2eHK1AbCMQ/s320/1349681531.gif" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Notes:<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THE
BODY HOUSE OF AN ACTOR</i></b><br />
was partially performed in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ghar Katha, a disposable theatre experience
by Kankhowa </i></b>as a part of the 75th anniversary of Baroda Ameteur
Dramatic Club<br />
Manjalpur, baroda, 28th Aug. 2010</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the same text there was a wall painted animated movie
done with the students of National Institute of Design (NID), in Ahmedabad,
February, 2011</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Assamese version was published in SADIN an Assamese
weekly published from Guwahati</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Text was later explored in an experiemental theatre
experience “HouseHOLD” at Kiran Nadar Museum of Art, Delhi, in November 2011 </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In February 2012 the text was explored in various public art
projects under R. A. P. E 2012 (Regional Art, Performance and Events), in
Guwahati. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The text is a part of a larger multidisciplinary project
undertaken by Kankhowa (Samudra Kajal Saikia) known as “Disposable House”.
Presently preparing for some book publishing projects and an exhibition at
Vadhera Art Gallery, New Delhi. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzgn8TGz0hH-bBgg8iYIC2r0w7gmo44GVBo9cTj62n7VRketIqsMSS4cvz9N2I8wSrZmfLZTz_WQwDm3AUKZE2iekKFUdVRhyDZVr_Vev8rdYNjKI-YGl46o7oEB_wcYqA1eHDzsIXczp/s1600/1349681466.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzgn8TGz0hH-bBgg8iYIC2r0w7gmo44GVBo9cTj62n7VRketIqsMSS4cvz9N2I8wSrZmfLZTz_WQwDm3AUKZE2iekKFUdVRhyDZVr_Vev8rdYNjKI-YGl46o7oEB_wcYqA1eHDzsIXczp/s320/1349681466.gif" width="239" /></a><br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A Performance Text by: Samudra Kajal Saikia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
kankhowa@gmail.com</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
mobile: 9811375594</div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7633423352793266003#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Vrinda; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a> a
traditional Baul song of Bengal</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-7658552584864405052012-11-04T02:01:00.000-08:002012-11-04T02:16:47.488-08:00Do not touch the art objects, but feel free to step in my house <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjwYOS6hQnSDf-TdRRGNiFm4yZksrP1Kh09heE1PMSFt-am6k8mxIK5V3PpW7ta_txIIXkvhAwVh_KSCJj0CBsZDmb450ML7JoJmE34p9cwth1TTbGXtgJiHEhlrTv8UlHi7l6qdQ_BST/s1600/DSC_0040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjwYOS6hQnSDf-TdRRGNiFm4yZksrP1Kh09heE1PMSFt-am6k8mxIK5V3PpW7ta_txIIXkvhAwVh_KSCJj0CBsZDmb450ML7JoJmE34p9cwth1TTbGXtgJiHEhlrTv8UlHi7l6qdQ_BST/s320/DSC_0040.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Extending spaces with-in and out
“Home Memories”....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4Bf75AqL-_el522uRUbnms1kCnfg_qDUMCnGTAkvj9jMrwJcydMAjrDHZxsfB3OIJqtKPKTwD48t69FyXl7J3ydfBnStV4HIGL2HcBsQTIBi4plov6QyG5K3lifuG4IRubk59jUBTZ6t/s1600/t09s958p2l92.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4Bf75AqL-_el522uRUbnms1kCnfg_qDUMCnGTAkvj9jMrwJcydMAjrDHZxsfB3OIJqtKPKTwD48t69FyXl7J3ydfBnStV4HIGL2HcBsQTIBi4plov6QyG5K3lifuG4IRubk59jUBTZ6t/s320/t09s958p2l92.tiff" width="320" /></a></div>
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an exhibition with </div>
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Alexis
Boucher- France<br /> Diana Valarezo – Ecuador<br /> Hemant Sareen - India<br /> Isabel Herguera –Spain<br /> M.Pravat- India<br /> Manmeet Devgun - India</div>
Samudra Kajal Saika - India<br />
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“Home Memories” looks to study notions of home as explored through representation of displacement, nostalgia and personal attachments to architecture, geographic locations and memory.</div>
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The exhibition addresses questions of homesickness, family and nationality.</div>
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The selected works portray the experience of home moving, migrations, and personal attachments to places, lands and objects. These visual narrations work as personal as well as stories and</div>
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collective acts of memory. </div>
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Curated by Jose Abad Lorente. </div>
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Within the
premise of “Home memories”, an exhibition conceptualized by Jose, we developed
a concept for a site specific work and executed it recently. The work has
multiple facets and thus I would like to talk about it in the following
segments:</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Do not touch the art objects, but feel free to step in my house <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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This is spatial work<span lang="AS" style="font-family: Vrinda; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-language: AS; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">, </span><span lang="AS" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-language: AS; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">done on the floor of the tarace </span>and to see the work one has to walk
upon the work itself. The work is not “permanent” and is not in the
“traditionally excepted” mediums. i.e. it is not a work like oil on canvas,
printed on acid free archival papers, casted in bronze etc. the work is not to
be preserved inside a dark room, or to be kept in a museum or gallery. But at
the same time, it is a part of very much “mainstream” gallery space practice.
It is a part of the initiative taken by “Abadi Art Space”, Lado Sarai, Delhi.
One cannot sale it. One cannot own it. The only thing one can do is, to
experience it. </div>
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The value (and price) of the artwork is always determined
by the ways or presentation, and the ways of preservations. So a sense of care,
how the way you are taking care of it, definitely matters a lot. But in this
particular case, the work is done outside, left open for sunlight, autumn dust,
and all other elements of the changing weather in Delhi. Moreover, by proposition, by physicality and
by all conditions this is an art work meant to be foot stepped. This is an art
work what you not only can touch, but also step on it. In fact, without
stepping on it, you cannot see the entire work and cannot get the whole
experience of it. </div>
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For some reasons we do not understand the strategies of
‘high’ art. We do not feel comfortable with them, instead we prefer to practice
something that is accessible to a larger audience, and moreover, which is
“touchable”. </div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Aao sakhi Hum Lagri Khelein... <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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Aao sakhi hum lagri khelein</div>
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main jeeta toh tera ghar mera</div>
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tu jeeti toh mera ghar tera...</div>
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The work was planned in black and white so that it stands out
in the evening lights as well and also goes with the theme of
inside-and-outside. One enters the space and suddenly discovers the drawings on
the floor. Now definitely there is a dilemma in the visitor’s mind whether to
step on or not to step on. Or if step on exactly where to step on. The way of
space divisions and the matter of stepping on them reminded me about ‘Langri’ a
rural Indian fun-game mostly popular among the children. </div>
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Now the inscriptions on the floor turned up with a small
poetic piece in Hindi, which says “Come on dear, let’s play Langri. If I win
then your house will be mine, and if you win, then my house is yours”. This
instantaneous couplet appears complementary to the work in many ways. The work
as a whole contains an interplay of positive and negative spaces and the theme
itself is woven around the inside outside experiences. </div>
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The ways of saying has a reminiscence of a lyrical
rendering by Hazarat Hussain Shah, a sufi poet from medieval India, where he
says, “Come friend let’s play the dice together. If I win then you will be
mine, and if you win, I will be all yours”. </div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I do not think, but exist<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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We are artists working in delhi, coming from some
other parts of India. While talking about Home(s) we shared some experiences
around identity, the ways and necessities of proofing an individual’s identity
in a democratic country. This portion of work is a funny retake on the most
famous Cartesian saying: I think, so I exist. Here is written on the floor just
below your feet:</div>
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even if I do not think</div>
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I exist.</div>
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I do not have a voter ID card</div>
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I do not have a PAN card</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
I do not carry a permanent residency card</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
I do exist</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
I do not drive a car I do not have a driving
license </div>
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I do not have a passport to produce in front of you
</div>
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Yet I exist</div>
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<br /></div>
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I dont have a rent agrement</div>
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I do not have a postpaid mobile connection</div>
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Still I exist.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I cannot proof my residency</div>
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Still I reside</div>
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I cannot establish my dwelling</div>
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But I do dwell</div>
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<br /></div>
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But I exist</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
Yet I exist</div>
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Still I exist</div>
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<br /></div>
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Yes</div>
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I</div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The house of Kabir, The house of Buddha<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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One of the most important and interesting aspect of
a site specific work is the improvisation. Mostly the found objects and the
given circumstance become an integral part of the work, being the found
elements of the space also the artistic elements of the work. Here we “found” a
house for Kabir, a ‘matka’, with an inscription- “kabir’s earthen pot, broken,
yet not broken...” and also found a home for Gautama Buddha, “in search of the
origin of sufferings, Buddha had to leave his home”. </div>
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We are engaged into a venture what we call
“disposable Theatre”. Whatever we practice, we look for an ephemeral and purely
space-and-time specific artistic execution without the promise of sustainability.
This current work is also “disposable”. It is meant to be foot-stepped, and to
be erased away. Not to be preserved inside a museum, or to be sold in the
market. When in the contemporary capitalist artistic practice the art is being examined
on the basis of the longevity, sustainability and material(ist) quality, this
work, this home, is essentially tries to fade away – stepped away – disposed
away... by its own will.... </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Note:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The work can be read as an extended practice of the project “DISPOSABLE HOUSE:
The Imagery of ‘House’ in individual and Collective Memories”, a
multidisciplinary project that was being developed since 2004 in shifting
places, along diversified groups and individuals across multilayered mediums.
(It included: Performances, theatres, animation films, short films, blogging,
photo documentations, field-studies, researches, musical shows, installations,
comic strips, book publishing, journalistic writings, cultural criticisms,
artist-interactive-programs, and other individual and collective artistic
sub-projects). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Samudra
Kajal Saikia</div>
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kankhowa@gmail.com
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mobile:
9811375594</div>
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Collaborating
artist: Ashutosh Yadav (Kathputlee Interactive)</div>
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Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-49609498713122695272011-12-08T13:13:00.000-08:002011-12-18T10:34:41.922-08:00houseHOLD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzmljFWYtceZiksMhVsZ-F87oqHYXT_-gwhb5P2LrsmcaLx6FVx5FcZj92FJpoB9qnCiPQd1fCPQOo6_u7daBimSrGvlryNx7T63WV-Y7l-OZHEYRPbrfO061HyejWmBujjt7nkXfhSsv/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzmljFWYtceZiksMhVsZ-F87oqHYXT_-gwhb5P2LrsmcaLx6FVx5FcZj92FJpoB9qnCiPQd1fCPQOo6_u7daBimSrGvlryNx7T63WV-Y7l-OZHEYRPbrfO061HyejWmBujjt7nkXfhSsv/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">One day Akansha Rastogi called me for a visit at Kiran Nadar Museum of Art (KNMA) and expressed her wish to call some performance artists asking to use the museum space for a series of performances. She somehow felt my ongoing project "Disposable House" would be a better idea to start up with. The spatial experience inside the museum is amazing that could easily provoke a performer like me. Akansha named the series "Inhabiting the Museum" and I agreed to take up the starting venture and the process started. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhdulicKdvNQjoTrLOjHU3NqJBAzhPjWlzSDgOOlApVdBlSyGugUf_Il7OoLYpdeagrkyRKOYiNr_IVS0nLUqsBAq9Tm-CwYyftr_ntnVs1NepffRZ5SL3oyaErbZ475OB0ef_G71JDP8/s1600/_DSC6751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhdulicKdvNQjoTrLOjHU3NqJBAzhPjWlzSDgOOlApVdBlSyGugUf_Il7OoLYpdeagrkyRKOYiNr_IVS0nLUqsBAq9Tm-CwYyftr_ntnVs1NepffRZ5SL3oyaErbZ475OB0ef_G71JDP8/s320/_DSC6751.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Throughout the year i have been initiating multiple projects in collaboration with other artists in various parts of the country. So i took the opportunity to explore this new space. Here is a set of questions that instantly popped up in my mind, like, why the 'disposable house' should come inside a museum? Leave the "Disposable House" theme, why a performance inside a museum? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ajHNb0SJrX6at6-I_wf3VScotxFRIBVReujx9GSOlF2Bq6hzyPs9T0l-BBq35seQLOunCTEo2RGGT2Liyk4oOc8QKgd4hX9kBcaNEonrSweCuWOGG-XAjeMXhoADlPh7PdTkO748A9Dn/s1600/_DSC6793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ajHNb0SJrX6at6-I_wf3VScotxFRIBVReujx9GSOlF2Bq6hzyPs9T0l-BBq35seQLOunCTEo2RGGT2Liyk4oOc8QKgd4hX9kBcaNEonrSweCuWOGG-XAjeMXhoADlPh7PdTkO748A9Dn/s320/_DSC6793.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">On a very personal note: I never could fully enjoy a museum. I never have completed seeing a museum from A to Z. Walking across a museum space makes me exhausted, makes me bored and tired. Here i remember the way Ramkinkar Baij called the museum a dead space: "...You only told to move out the post-graduate hostel from the Black House and to make it a museum. What the use of it? Instead of lying as a dead museum, the stream of life is flowing there. That's good. After all life is important." (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mahashay Ami Chakkhik Rupokar Matro</i></b>, collection of Ramkinkar Baij's writings and interviews, edited by Sandipan Bhattacharya, Published by <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Manchasha</i></b>, 2002, page 59). </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaH7GCIIrDACuljYP1eUXobPu8qrbZdMrtITvANw1MBY9ZCdWMtI4lO2tYce6xADN_f_U_1bu3bs2QcVRJZRyjdCfVO78DqqPA_1rRP0nSmF7XvTV6obDq5ndhnSPdChLzr7plE04ZEVcq/s1600/P1210705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaH7GCIIrDACuljYP1eUXobPu8qrbZdMrtITvANw1MBY9ZCdWMtI4lO2tYce6xADN_f_U_1bu3bs2QcVRJZRyjdCfVO78DqqPA_1rRP0nSmF7XvTV6obDq5ndhnSPdChLzr7plE04ZEVcq/s320/P1210705.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Before going to the details of the process or the experience let me put a bit more about the anticipating thoughts. We call a museum "Jadu-ghar" (that is magic-house) in Assamese. That means Museum is a house. Again, while saying museum, we recall a process of museumization.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">The 'house' in an individual's memory is always in a process of museumization: we 'memorize' the house/home, we associate value to it, we mythify it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SuDGg4u4VRvaH4vAX2IYHEIa3CUiIcUIVxEZrAEQoQIV9WP1QfxrZopxbM5uF1tPzP1kTAeoZuSn3qHAnJ4GSGW6gUWg-r8rFQTni2lAAl5xkl0bI18cEHGOelaMx63n076LMRy5GkM2/s1600/_DSC6868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SuDGg4u4VRvaH4vAX2IYHEIa3CUiIcUIVxEZrAEQoQIV9WP1QfxrZopxbM5uF1tPzP1kTAeoZuSn3qHAnJ4GSGW6gUWg-r8rFQTni2lAAl5xkl0bI18cEHGOelaMx63n076LMRy5GkM2/s320/_DSC6868.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Formally speaking, my first ambiguity was which manner to take up the venture, in a more theatrical way (what I always prefer) or to go for a precise visual based 'performance-art' way? As a first step i tentatively fixed a name for it "houseHOLD", "house" in small letters and "HOLD" with all Capitals. this HOLD contains three interpretations: firstly, household in literal sense. I'm using household in multiple references from Sufi and <b><i>Deha-tatwa</i></b> Fakiri songs, in the way the medieval saints-poets define the inner self as household. Simultaneously the actor's body as the house to dwell the art. secondly, HOLD as in literal sense, to hold, to grasp something. Thirdly, hold referring time to hold. The museum holds a time. This last interpretation connects very much with the note that Akansha Rastogi prepared: ‘Inhabiting the Museum – a series of performances’ invites artists to negotiate with the different <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">times</i> that co-exist in a museum space: the performer’s time, the viewer’s time, the artworks’ time and the museum’s own notion of time. To perhaps create situations of extended duration within the museum space, to be the catalyst or the subject of that spent/mapped/fatigued duration.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8-CV1JiH1NHPE6P7ElzMwK4qjGfrMNJQjDmdWj1UarTDKPbqpV5sWbwRQWWYT3k74Y8KZRJrjHODyCR_eNZHPIrFk2o3_HgHWTFomIpeRD0gM4bHXPW4Fo2Ecx0SvvdC5PRmx03oV4dq/s1600/vlcsnap-77420.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8-CV1JiH1NHPE6P7ElzMwK4qjGfrMNJQjDmdWj1UarTDKPbqpV5sWbwRQWWYT3k74Y8KZRJrjHODyCR_eNZHPIrFk2o3_HgHWTFomIpeRD0gM4bHXPW4Fo2Ecx0SvvdC5PRmx03oV4dq/s320/vlcsnap-77420.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Noteworthy is that, this "Museum" resides inside a Mall "Southcourt Mall" Saket, Delhi. It is a very interesting thing to observe that the notion of time defined by a "Mall" and defined by a "Museum" is utterly oppositional. The Mall is existent only on the contemporaneity and temporality of time. Whereas the museum tries to surpass the temporal momentariness of time. For the Mall, time is ephemeral. Contrarily, the museum tries to deal with some timelessness. This is one more interesting thing for what i was fascinated with this particular space. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">However, I took up the project as another venture of my Disposable Theatre for some reason, to disturb the sophisticated and overpowering space of the MUSEUM. There are highly attributed and costly art works on the floor and on the walls, including 7 crore Bharati Kher and 16 crore Razas. My presence in the space with my ephemeral and temporal, and low cost (almost "no cost") practices along with lesser sophistication would really create some disturbances. I worked with zero remuneration. The budget I made was not approved. I got no advance from the initiators or the authorities (but I had to give advance to all my workers). In fact, the fact is, up-to this moment of starting writing this note, when the performance was over days back, I am getting no phone calls, no SMS, no hope of money. I think this is a good gesture. I know i should not talk this way, once I wrote money is needed in some other place, and in return I got a lesson of MORALITY: why we should not bother about money and should put ourselves into struggle only. Anyways, things just happen. art happens. Just like, shit happens.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">***</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DnqEA0A-VCd_2Szs_hbn2k-be0u5uw19yA2IT0IuGnTNKk59_lKkEG8-GfAUov4ApjNH_0I9nMEB6lfznW8-VntjZlOOovIGx94hbeo2mc7_QH3GqFGsHweWBcMv17wsnP2XK8oCxZ6b/s1600/_DSC6791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DnqEA0A-VCd_2Szs_hbn2k-be0u5uw19yA2IT0IuGnTNKk59_lKkEG8-GfAUov4ApjNH_0I9nMEB6lfznW8-VntjZlOOovIGx94hbeo2mc7_QH3GqFGsHweWBcMv17wsnP2XK8oCxZ6b/s320/_DSC6791.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Now let us enter the space.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ubNMn6q8KoJebzHZxR0aRar1HLmX_RvwKfb0i3EWb0hCwbmIXHlPT_I029jV8sPDdv8l3XmUMDwXj2VRQX7uycuE6Ocf5I89GwTiTFLDbTL-ACQcvazf2VQDcX83bpCxarvipzlQ2h6L/s1600/IMG_1157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ubNMn6q8KoJebzHZxR0aRar1HLmX_RvwKfb0i3EWb0hCwbmIXHlPT_I029jV8sPDdv8l3XmUMDwXj2VRQX7uycuE6Ocf5I89GwTiTFLDbTL-ACQcvazf2VQDcX83bpCxarvipzlQ2h6L/s320/IMG_1157.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">You are a visitor/spectator/ participator/ audience/ reader/ listener/ receiver/ bystander.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHxvWU85DxPhxfeJTBHviOqPtTwV40YIknFMxCm4dZ2XiwosTFRtY4R3EQYlccXk5z_dhW2hEoB2VbS6dA3CZzhYaYj6W_Qz6mS3bdg-W125tYwP6frElH9skw_djgsdmLXOMIn_DzOK_/s1600/_DSC6728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHxvWU85DxPhxfeJTBHviOqPtTwV40YIknFMxCm4dZ2XiwosTFRtY4R3EQYlccXk5z_dhW2hEoB2VbS6dA3CZzhYaYj6W_Qz6mS3bdg-W125tYwP6frElH9skw_djgsdmLXOMIn_DzOK_/s320/_DSC6728.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2TCohZ4W8Zkfj9dtPE4Rawg5f0RLVcHNx6Y-1wb5Ct1nDz1KvIl08c5LSWRLt0vKydkwdZhhxAXesfcaNzvl7XHrr3sHRQGkFfZJVJBh6xdIRO4a1pOZ_bdN6O5QUpk4RFCTrrYsnHM-/s1600/_DSC6730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2TCohZ4W8Zkfj9dtPE4Rawg5f0RLVcHNx6Y-1wb5Ct1nDz1KvIl08c5LSWRLt0vKydkwdZhhxAXesfcaNzvl7XHrr3sHRQGkFfZJVJBh6xdIRO4a1pOZ_bdN6O5QUpk4RFCTrrYsnHM-/s320/_DSC6730.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmAv1S0Dd98jQTjMS9nk3PvdY-rfK8NMSOdQjzvfPnQw5CCYDjwMrj_i2AISr39pjzTQyGBRuS2yq_waMoQjD7LvwVTJsXwCLU9hVFBIBc1-2CIKx05RYe9CJJiJ5dpVzg7UYU4K-8Ev6/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmAv1S0Dd98jQTjMS9nk3PvdY-rfK8NMSOdQjzvfPnQw5CCYDjwMrj_i2AISr39pjzTQyGBRuS2yq_waMoQjD7LvwVTJsXwCLU9hVFBIBc1-2CIKx05RYe9CJJiJ5dpVzg7UYU4K-8Ev6/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 01:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Interactive Activity: Potato Stamp</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Y</b>ou come to KNMA for the performance "houseHOLD" a Disposable Theatre Performance. Before the entrance you got a stamp on your waist: an engraved print made by a Potato cut. This is a gesture that you see while entering a Pub or dance bar, but here you are getting with a Potato, a very much household thing, something from the everyday ordinariness. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 02: </b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Installation/ Interactive activity : "Take Home" or "Wish Fulfillment Houses"</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWhOZ22tm1zQdRoBMGZRX-3tAwnyaAG03tjowOdkbrxIIy5MUOoFnOkIeUcifMOvuanyhxqR3fVWMkSTV3xUaFFQ3el4CfUGYd-jJblz3kAM4h-yUJSTIhn1H1NwPTlmZW2vaXngp_2_M/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWhOZ22tm1zQdRoBMGZRX-3tAwnyaAG03tjowOdkbrxIIy5MUOoFnOkIeUcifMOvuanyhxqR3fVWMkSTV3xUaFFQ3el4CfUGYd-jJblz3kAM4h-yUJSTIhn1H1NwPTlmZW2vaXngp_2_M/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Just entering the reception room of KNMA, you see a huge number of house-structured packaging boxes. Some gift items, in shape of Homes/houses, with multiple notes, references, and visuals and you are asked to put your wish in one of them. This are Take Home houses, you can take one house to your home as a gift at the end of the performance. These are also "Wish Fulfillment Houses". You got to put your wish in them, as if that is the ritual by which your wish would be fulfilled. (note that in various parts of the country such ritualistic practices are available, where you have to tie up a thread on a temple or a holy stone or on a tree trunk expecting a process of wish-fulfillment.) Interestingly, at the end of the performance you will be carrying a House with a wish, not necessarily your own wish but someone else's perhaps. That means, you put your wish to some house, but you will be carrying some other house, where some other person put his or her wish. Thus it is an interactive activity, a process where the art goes person to person, home to home. A connection is made from the museum space to the PUBLIC SPHERE. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 03:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Video Installation</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEH2mPpA4gENMviNSiFrcgQOK1uZNpRL5GRaHL6toOyYIdtI4CDkN3YpqIgmk6E3ABsu4gHv4gHkqHgDf7dVyG3MU8MUzvNSaCOk-3YCQ5ltqil44vs1i4ePpOSraAA9nNPZWoERZtr3Fq/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEH2mPpA4gENMviNSiFrcgQOK1uZNpRL5GRaHL6toOyYIdtI4CDkN3YpqIgmk6E3ABsu4gHv4gHkqHgDf7dVyG3MU8MUzvNSaCOk-3YCQ5ltqil44vs1i4ePpOSraAA9nNPZWoERZtr3Fq/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/kankhowa?feature=mhee#p/u/4/ynRwjdbyZy8">http://www.youtube.com/user/kankhowa?feature=mhee#p/u/4/ynRwjdbyZy8</a> </b><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/kankhowa?feature=mhee#p/u/7/xhqiPtw5464">http://www.youtube.com/user/kankhowa?feature=mhee#p/u/7/xhqiPtw5464</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/33798510">http://vimeo.com/33798510</a> <br />
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<b> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Now you very obviously encounter two video monitors displaying three videos on the wall of the reception cabin. Video one: an animation done with the song "Little Boxes" by Pete Seeger that goes very much with my ongoing House project. Video two: "Storied House", a wall-painted stop motion animation film in the old city of Ahmedabad, project initiated by Mahan Jyoti Dutta. (note that: I was presenting another proposal of wall-animation to FICA as a public art project, and in my first interview with FICA's Vivan Sundaram as a jury I was suggested to take up the wall animation thing). Video three: "Ancient Stone", a docu-fiction, again by Mahan Jyoti Dutta as a diploma project of National Institute of Design where the daily activities of an elephant in the city was documented. This film captures some everyday nuances with shifting stuffs, people's reaction to the elephant in the city, and the crisis of the elephant in front of the modern day transportation vehicles. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 04:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Here are very nonsense activities going on to increase the interactions between the actors and the spectators. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXhmeNOUV6X4cS6U-LrsQGJ8hc9KdSKruwnSbiDgmyi0560eSdzazdKl9zByznZS482VWAc_lrdqp048N4tyNVZ2atcZUsf1v4HFhG5X1fnuKgumbqR0PyF6Tl5i_5z3y6p9qgFlPNVd5/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXhmeNOUV6X4cS6U-LrsQGJ8hc9KdSKruwnSbiDgmyi0560eSdzazdKl9zByznZS482VWAc_lrdqp048N4tyNVZ2atcZUsf1v4HFhG5X1fnuKgumbqR0PyF6Tl5i_5z3y6p9qgFlPNVd5/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3heHlprbSFVq1-PvZCvLbq3OG68R7XkoP_dyovr9pMtQ4pbOIGXe31fBV1BJjyv9aK0vudT-PGEhFNWMGrrnfuTkAytRXEZ5SFKn_S52gHTowbvpDMhcmTgdLvBrTt4ilxL_m19Qtdt4/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3heHlprbSFVq1-PvZCvLbq3OG68R7XkoP_dyovr9pMtQ4pbOIGXe31fBV1BJjyv9aK0vudT-PGEhFNWMGrrnfuTkAytRXEZ5SFKn_S52gHTowbvpDMhcmTgdLvBrTt4ilxL_m19Qtdt4/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 05:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spatial Installation - Kankhowa's House</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sound Installation - Purvaranga. </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxGZ5Q57kDUq7HhcvLT74QdcD3jG8FZLhH2FQRpBdQ9ViJJ6clKrtAzqV3210n47rohLej6E1NFB6na6rHNg2QQeJayG2gHQkKO2EkDuDTA3fC9FCquGuAhF8hLlW9B-X8MgGcqYMwWux/s1600/vlcsnap-28802.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxGZ5Q57kDUq7HhcvLT74QdcD3jG8FZLhH2FQRpBdQ9ViJJ6clKrtAzqV3210n47rohLej6E1NFB6na6rHNg2QQeJayG2gHQkKO2EkDuDTA3fC9FCquGuAhF8hLlW9B-X8MgGcqYMwWux/s320/vlcsnap-28802.png" width="320" /></a></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Anandalahari</i></b> or <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Khamak</i></b>, a traditional instrument used by Bauls and Fakirs of Bengal is being played by Sandip Samaddar (Pantu) to start up a ritual beginning. Bhumit Taunk, Nobel Singha and Manideep Paul three contemporary musicians collaborate the music in a fusion, and create a soundscape to energize the entire space. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 06:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spatial Installation - in search of the private space within the cityscape</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizECSU1KP0u2wevcTdvcZAwZsjcavZEuIT-nqsPLF12JfqI9AqEJPDY1tqO13GeNGfiFU0NxEV0aVjL-DPmh4AkF4PP8Mzao70vcej-tOEqTwXQORzp-oNTorcGWV12l0JgiwCnY5eqg5R/s1600/P1210711.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizECSU1KP0u2wevcTdvcZAwZsjcavZEuIT-nqsPLF12JfqI9AqEJPDY1tqO13GeNGfiFU0NxEV0aVjL-DPmh4AkF4PP8Mzao70vcej-tOEqTwXQORzp-oNTorcGWV12l0JgiwCnY5eqg5R/s320/P1210711.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
Simultaneously the spotlight is on an installation of three tin trunks and some card board boxes, they resembles an urban cityscape. As the Purvaranga concert starts, three women actors drag three boxes, caress them for a while. Then they open the boxes and pull out cloths and other household stuffs and go in. Now you got to see the painted bottoms of the boxes, some very interior moments. (painters: Anuradha Upadhyaya, Daina Mahapatra, Samudra Kajal Saikia). Its is a self complete journey from the outer view of cityscape to the interior of an individual.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-LfMzBndy1Tmm33cF-Pp6sx4jGRiV0zi08joaVdxW-9NyJWXdPhj0kKxz_2mfJSUP6iX7vWQeZzxEHSqps-vl3ab72f0DkUlK_2q2UOktkr4Yi0xMIgADTDtIPRQXpbc8WrrSY_ZUnyO/s1600/box+house+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-LfMzBndy1Tmm33cF-Pp6sx4jGRiV0zi08joaVdxW-9NyJWXdPhj0kKxz_2mfJSUP6iX7vWQeZzxEHSqps-vl3ab72f0DkUlK_2q2UOktkr4Yi0xMIgADTDtIPRQXpbc8WrrSY_ZUnyO/s320/box+house+03.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 07:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Atithi-Varan/ Avyarthana </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIuy6Ia8kgd_3LuWADHQx3X4YG0uRqWiaw4fLsCKkxKNAHKgPYSlkgWSCeDM-I7zGl_wkAs0k7LBcSvpLnu2mBtMiDuqk5a-lFAOlrCvFu7E3KLDK3vdipxYpR2CoBA3dh7Fg6sX_3A4J/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIuy6Ia8kgd_3LuWADHQx3X4YG0uRqWiaw4fLsCKkxKNAHKgPYSlkgWSCeDM-I7zGl_wkAs0k7LBcSvpLnu2mBtMiDuqk5a-lFAOlrCvFu7E3KLDK3vdipxYpR2CoBA3dh7Fg6sX_3A4J/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Anuradha Upadhyaya, an actor offers a rose to the audience, not from a flower vase but from a pressure cooker, a gift to welcome the 'atithi', household guests. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 08:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Griha-pravesh</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Pantu is sitting in front of a HOUSE structure blocking the entry gate. I asked him to open the space for all. He says, "my house is locked and the key of it is being grasped by some 'other..." then he starts singing, it is a song from Lalon Fakir. he enters the space, we follow him to the museum. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 09:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Household soundscape</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW776_9Loi-rJNGNgp-QgjDB5hXFiWqvOHwqdrptDJ1fwf-NeuQuM_cNkkROCb9HJGn02bN3Wz6Z8xJv4pJ9qjzUYr7cD4ZxycjR09tX7w7Nb1HapvcLiVrI6O2PcBNK1njuFQd0kBiyfr/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW776_9Loi-rJNGNgp-QgjDB5hXFiWqvOHwqdrptDJ1fwf-NeuQuM_cNkkROCb9HJGn02bN3Wz6Z8xJv4pJ9qjzUYr7cD4ZxycjR09tX7w7Nb1HapvcLiVrI6O2PcBNK1njuFQd0kBiyfr/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixim3F5G62CI4Gu6pmPs8c1wc9P4OgRAUi6x6Fzzwtm3nyskIqHoxbg7lPyFqKgtmKQEdCiT6MMd5hom_1VqrxS0lmxvaAyGKLKhp2Wb_qvUs-qU3lYK_p2Q1POG3sBfaxlHTjQVSYxQap/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixim3F5G62CI4Gu6pmPs8c1wc9P4OgRAUi6x6Fzzwtm3nyskIqHoxbg7lPyFqKgtmKQEdCiT6MMd5hom_1VqrxS0lmxvaAyGKLKhp2Wb_qvUs-qU3lYK_p2Q1POG3sBfaxlHTjQVSYxQap/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+019.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">An orchestration, rather a soundscape with sounds made with some household objects like utensils, water drums, food containers, buckets and so on, goes on inside to develop your curiosity. A curtain raiser event. It is a visual installation as well as a sound installation with ordinary household objects inside the very museum interior. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 10:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spatial Installation - The Tent House</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwJj41Atj3mkU7XOya2YHgrHJ8SRG8oh4WGM7yk7Ephqwy_s6eKqTd94FI6DzCt4Ndr5MUmiqiKdeqUy1lNCnLd9r4ypelfEhm3dKcy250G_Fk-PuTz93Akk9VvEMCjOeVkKqAylvikOW/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwJj41Atj3mkU7XOya2YHgrHJ8SRG8oh4WGM7yk7Ephqwy_s6eKqTd94FI6DzCt4Ndr5MUmiqiKdeqUy1lNCnLd9r4ypelfEhm3dKcy250G_Fk-PuTz93Akk9VvEMCjOeVkKqAylvikOW/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Here you see a tent house, a roadside tent-house made up with the real estate advertisements of buying, selling and renting houses. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 11:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Subjective actors: House arrest </b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriMFBBxJBOZZTnVSri0-krh59-yTIacibX1NRLm4R2BHVFCeRQPKTfWROua-OnFvhVfttqgqxWUlm_rdHz8ptP9wYkHVkf_DUoGhZQkNKA_3LAD6JhI-dWkBW497Fr6ja6hLr1a8l_UHT/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriMFBBxJBOZZTnVSri0-krh59-yTIacibX1NRLm4R2BHVFCeRQPKTfWROua-OnFvhVfttqgqxWUlm_rdHz8ptP9wYkHVkf_DUoGhZQkNKA_3LAD6JhI-dWkBW497Fr6ja6hLr1a8l_UHT/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><b><br />
</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Five actors playing beats on buckets define the acting space and sits on the buckets to make a physical presence. All actors, one by one, introduce and speak up for the self with own subjective identity. The theatrical part starts with the recital of the text:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8k7Aa7MoSLb4MdSimo5lUhI7uScwWra6v3KVek5oBxV33DTOy01KIWkyQjF4BSMp8dcW2OOZOnHKosaweSUR-zOYemTuHTwEFrWfe8uJ6_qHvSjRep5FqppI0OVrDTMqIy3_GT2xEWH3P/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8k7Aa7MoSLb4MdSimo5lUhI7uScwWra6v3KVek5oBxV33DTOy01KIWkyQjF4BSMp8dcW2OOZOnHKosaweSUR-zOYemTuHTwEFrWfe8uJ6_qHvSjRep5FqppI0OVrDTMqIy3_GT2xEWH3P/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc1-d7ZsNx6g-ZJHBxndvboV3DMUm3dPG9IZ1s6FpXjLMpZACwNzlovSr9MBnyujZG0RqLgNP9jgFQSSocdGIss6c9-Ww5hg763gu1lU4PfG-jcG8lvyED8hDBJQQ9U9WrUUd24x03NZWs/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc1-d7ZsNx6g-ZJHBxndvboV3DMUm3dPG9IZ1s6FpXjLMpZACwNzlovSr9MBnyujZG0RqLgNP9jgFQSSocdGIss6c9-Ww5hg763gu1lU4PfG-jcG8lvyED8hDBJQQ9U9WrUUd24x03NZWs/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">The roof of Kankhowa’s house leaks</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Thousands of eyes from the evening sky</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Keep staring at me</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot go out</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot stay in</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdhvtqDiFq1bQ7_8WWNcL2Nrbb8EVsQ6rvWDqe8ltZqFphzB5aLQDY2MlBU5LI3aGcCVGDrweoB1DINceLrQBVCADkWd4jFzc1GV9U_MyX44KMssFxchs7xyG-lm-4tYCJLkc7TGLc7IT/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdhvtqDiFq1bQ7_8WWNcL2Nrbb8EVsQ6rvWDqe8ltZqFphzB5aLQDY2MlBU5LI3aGcCVGDrweoB1DINceLrQBVCADkWd4jFzc1GV9U_MyX44KMssFxchs7xyG-lm-4tYCJLkc7TGLc7IT/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>a choreograph goes on in the background, where 4 women actors are haunted by some reminiscences and memories. Then the Actor sings a Baul song (if i could call him in a proper way/ won't be he staying so far away/ I got no response/ even after calling so desperately/ I do realize now, I couldn't call him in a proper way). </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 12: </b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I am an actor</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">A gypsy concert is being played in background. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">the actor pulls out a slip of paper and recites:</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I am an actor. Very limited my abilities are.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">It’s been a long time I left home for my studies,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I know a lot of you share the same story.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">But as an actor I dwell in this particular body.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">This body of mine is my house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Wherever I go, I carry this house with me.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Or, say, this mobile house brings me within it.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot get out of this house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">If I do, I’m no more an actor.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Sometimes I feel neither can I enter in this house of mine.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">You might laugh at my words,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">But these things have always disturbed me.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">If acting is an art, I transform this very body to an art object,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">and present it in front of you.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">My dear audience, look, please look at me,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">even now I am doing the same thing.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Right now I cannot go out of this space even if I wish to,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot go and take a nap,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot go out for some tea.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 13:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spatial Installation - The Magic Almirah, Property and the Thief </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">There is an almirah, with a lot of cloths messed up on the floor. Two actors try to clean up the room as guests are there in front of them. But the almirah has an opening on the back of it. As a result, whatever they put in the almirah, they fall back. Thus it is a never ending process. The messed up household never get cleaned up actually. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Gradually there develops some funny and nonsense activities regarding thief and household. A hyper theatrical moment with hyper physical acting.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzH-dZotbgeFaCGSIu-K03kc28HtucL3tsHtdufznRQqXs33MS1fh2t3WSsBP7xSUaY358_VIPlek1mAjbzAwBkF-G6bfDEb1ztBYz6z1HBGLT2s_czRcdc6N49WSXbwk1vv7FlAWqFi6y/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzH-dZotbgeFaCGSIu-K03kc28HtucL3tsHtdufznRQqXs33MS1fh2t3WSsBP7xSUaY358_VIPlek1mAjbzAwBkF-G6bfDEb1ztBYz6z1HBGLT2s_czRcdc6N49WSXbwk1vv7FlAWqFi6y/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 2.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 2.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 14: </b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="text-transform: uppercase;">Buy me. Purchase me.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: 66.65pt; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPM-inR0h46TLDN7Wm34FInNX628WfD85mF3qjLZ4Y3PieHOxxAJxQCllD3KDTUwwn4_1CT9lURyQ5DslbcyIGDN-x4_j6HDIv0_G1xkmxgf8J0PH5DoBUQbGDdorxgo9PDwQwIYN7jKQg/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPM-inR0h46TLDN7Wm34FInNX628WfD85mF3qjLZ4Y3PieHOxxAJxQCllD3KDTUwwn4_1CT9lURyQ5DslbcyIGDN-x4_j6HDIv0_G1xkmxgf8J0PH5DoBUQbGDdorxgo9PDwQwIYN7jKQg/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Sometimes I wish if I were a barber</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">And give you a hair cut</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">And if I could make some money out of it.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I am an actor with limited abilities.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I know very little things, very little things I can do</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot fly kites,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot drive,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot play a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dotara</i>,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I love you so much without even knowing you</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I don’t know how much I will love you after I see you. I hardly can assume</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I don’t know how to write a poem.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">It would have been better if I were a farmer.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Or a retailer of garments.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">To sale my goods and make money.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Buy me. Purchase me. I am for sale. I am a commodity.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">It would have been better if I were a painter.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I would have painted and made money.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">But I am just an actor. A performer.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I turn my body to an work. I don't make art. This body of mine is an object of art.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Buy me, I want to make some money.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Buy me.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Purchase me.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I don’t have a house that I can sell and make money.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot rent a house to dwell in.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I carry a house, my body, all the time.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">the actor recites. other actors come and attach advertisements, and house-as-property promotional statements to the actor's body. thus the body of the actor gets restricted. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 15:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Displacement</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Now here is a time to move from the space. The actors push the almirah to a different space, singing:</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is sehar mein rehne ko bhi jagah nahin jami nahin</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ghar basa ne ki umeedon ki bhi dekhon koyi kami nahin</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">na ashiyana na ashikana</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yah baat kuch jami nahin</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">haya re haya haya re haya....</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There is no space, no land to live in this city</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But there is no dearth of wishes to build a house.</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no roof over your head, no love,</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">i just could not get this thing.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 16:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">There is an elephant in the House</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Pushing the household, now you cross a space where the big life-size elephant, entitled as "The Skin Speaks a Language Not Its Own" by Bharati Kher is lying. Today the elephant is inside a mosquito net. The elephant is exhausted, and lying on ground which always reminded me of the household woman. Again while using the mosquito nets i remembered an Assamese riddle: Gharar bhitorot ghar, tate somay dhorphorai mor. (there is a house inside the house, be inside and die, what is it? answer: a mosquito net).</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">The video there displayed in the reception counter "Ancient Stone" also somehow can engage a spectator. Other than that we see a connection of house construction and elephant.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Q6EHcf_J7GJA2TJi4uG7f2zEukMu3vEwGnQTOvthZECN18D5g52q3uey7nTU6dzz7mbvGy8qRDlQl8c2SH-dsnuiSKllLgPBHEQkoSr2jxsm3X1kVq6ka-J6WDEopDo5JSJQufD8-BwV/s1600/houseHOLD+photo+edit+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Q6EHcf_J7GJA2TJi4uG7f2zEukMu3vEwGnQTOvthZECN18D5g52q3uey7nTU6dzz7mbvGy8qRDlQl8c2SH-dsnuiSKllLgPBHEQkoSr2jxsm3X1kVq6ka-J6WDEopDo5JSJQufD8-BwV/s320/houseHOLD+photo+edit+005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">See this poem for our further engagements:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Elephants and House</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 17:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I exit in, I enter out</b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">A mirror act happens, with a tension between the physical self and the conceptual self, between the image and the object. Spatially speaking, this event happens in front of a Raza painting, with sharp shadows on it. A recital in blues goes in background that connects the labyrinth of multiple selves as celebrated the medieval sufi saints. </div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">There is somebody else dwelling inside my house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Neither I can see nor can I touch, beyond of my knowledge.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Though I hardly know his name, I can feel his grief.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">We stay in the same house, but we are far apart.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">No postman ever came, in search of him.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">The telephone never rang for him.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I mostly buy vegetables for him as well</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">When I do it for me, I care for him.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I cannot lock my house while going out</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Since he never comes out of the house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">He never sleeps properly like someone suffering from asthma.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Because of him I too wake up many times during the night.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">The moment I play the ektaara, you pick up the percussion</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">But who's there to play the false notes, I can't guess.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">You prepare the color and I paint the canvas with passion</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">But who is there to make it a mess?<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=7633423352793266003#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I go in and come out all the time</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Looking for him,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I go in and come out, go in and come out.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">And a time comes when I don’t know, if I am inside or outside.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I exit in, I enter out.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 18:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">the Actor: the Mirror: the interior </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Do you remember, you shot a seagull?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">song: Majh nisha mor endhar ghorot, by Parvati Prasad Baruah, popularized by Bhupen Hazarika</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Sahiba Vij, the actor takes on the actor's Preparation. She compiles three characters from Macbeth's Lady Macbeth, Anton Chekov's Nina from Seagull and Savitri from Mohan Rakesh's Adhe Adhure, and explores the pain and pleasure, agony and ecstasy of the actorship. It was a striking moment when she puts her lower garments down, and gets very personal on the way. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I am an actor. Before and after being an actor, I am a spectator.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I see, I can see,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">It is important that I should see.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I have to see other people looking at me.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Therefore, if I am an actor,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">there are many spectators inside me, They share the house with me.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">That is why I am confused, how many people live in my house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I lose myself in my own house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">My house is so full of people that I cannot enter my own house. </div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I remember Lalon Fakir. I remember Kabir.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step 19:</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">There is a house inside the house</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: justify;">Here is a half done structure with electric wiring pipes. You can join and unjoin the structure, again a public interactive activity. While reciting the text the actors remove their make ups and gets back to their selves.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: justify;">Text recital:<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Dear,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Amongst the crowd I do search for you.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">There is a house inside the house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">And there is a house in the house that is again inside the house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">And there is a house in the house that is inside the house of that house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">And there is a house inside the house of that house which is inside the house of that house which is again inside the house of another house….</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">And then another house inside the…</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">I don’t know which house you live in. where do you inhabit.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">I enter a house looking for you and you enter another house,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">I enter another house and you go inside a different one.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">Thus I spend my days.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">It’s been a long time I’m neither inside the house, nor outside actually</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">I don’t know how many houses are there inside my house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">I don’t even know who built this house.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: center 3.0in; text-align: center;">I just know that you are there somewhere</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">You are there.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">With a constant stare.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Now here is a congregational space provided where you can participate in the activity, or got a space to just roam around. A music jamming started with no defined time limit. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Again, as proposed by the strategies of the Disposable Theatre, there is no Curtain Call. There is no end. Theatre does not end. Cannot be concluded. theatre is a process. A continuum of experience. </div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">***</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">About the Disposable Theatre:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Disposable Theatre takes place only once in a life time and it disposes all its possibilities at once. The text could be repeated but the form and the execution pattern changes according to the time-and-space. In one sense, the concerns around time-and-space anticipated The Disposable Theatre and it always privilege the performance over the text. By doing that the Disposable Theatre makes a critique on the contemporary cultural practices. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The basic concerns of the Disposable Theatre of Kankhowa are:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Disposable Theatre of KanKhowa is rooted into some discomfort with the ongoing practices and some disciplinary queries. Where the spaces are constantly shifting in a rapid manner due to globalization and cross-culturalism, as a practitioner of theatre-arts we are bound to think about - what would be appropriate/suitable language for theatre. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Disposable Theatre explores the scope and limitations of the interdisciplinary practices. The Disposable Theatre works in the Interface of the institutional space and the larger public domain, the Interface of the public and the private, the Individual and collective, the interface of the conventional and the radical, the ‘mainstream’ and the ‘alternative’, the ‘local’ and the ‘multicultural’, and definitely in the Interface of theory and praxis.</span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Working with the interfaces Disposable Theatre undergoes a constant shift in its works. The proposal for a Disposable Theatre is by and for him, who shifts space.</span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Disposable Theatre rejects the notion of a “product” to deliver from a creator’s side to the spectator’s side since it constitutes a give-and-take power relationship. </span></b></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">An actor of Disposable Theatre simply rejects to enact. S/he waits for something to happen at a particular time and space. Actors of Disposable Theatre mostly prefer to confront, not with an imposed ego, mannerist method-acting or masculine showmanship, but with the ordinariness of our ‘everyday’. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Disposable Theatre problematizes the narcissistic disorder is commonly seen in the actor’s training in the mainstream national theatre. In Disposable Theatre actors are put in a more inward journey, from the self to the inner self. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Disposable Theatre can take place anywhere, inside an academic institution, an art gallery, a market place, a village fair, a national auditorium and so on. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You cannot “do” Disposable Theatre; it “happens” or “takes place”. What you can do is initiation. The Disposable Theatre happens in a relationship of the performer and the spectator, and hence it can be repeated neither in the same space, nor in any other space. The Disposable Theatre is always site specific. Truly ephemeral. The performing space determines the nature of the performance, and hence, there is no pre-determined acting method. Actors are ready to confront with their own identity. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Spectators in The Disposable Theatre are not asked to switch off their mobile phones, neither are they restricted to any definitive seat-arrangement. Spectators in The Disposable Theatre are always free to move around, take a physical position, and have a perspective, from where s/he can have a look. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The spectators are free to move around, speak out, receive a mobile call, and take a yawn or hiccup. Audience as a constantly moving crowd remains the most organic part of the happening.</span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The performance and the circumstance turns to the text, as the performance gets over, the text are collapsed. Everything is disposed, only a memory remains in the Disposable Theatre. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Disposable Theatre adopts a theory of no resistance. KanKhowa resists nothing. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The process of Disposable Theatre starts at the moment you think of doing it. … </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Essentially the arts of performance and theatre need a process, a continuum of exchanging experience. The creator-author-artist-centered modernist discourses maintained a hegemony which so far exiled the spectator from its location. </span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Only the DISPOSABLE THEATRE, a theatre that takes place in between the ordinary everyday and the phenomenal one, a theatre that is built up with the “body of the spectator” instead of the “actor” can claim itself a theatre of our times.</span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #17365D; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Some of the earlier performances that comes under the Disposable Theatre Project:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">GHAR KATHA: Chapter One, a site specific installation-cum-performance project, at the 75<sup>th</sup> anniversary of Baroda Amateur Dramatic Club, 28<sup>th</sup> Aug 2010, Manjalpur, Baroda.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The Chairs: The Private and the Public</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> in the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">national level seminar on “Religion and the Visual Arts: Representations and Contestations”</b>, 2<sup>nd</sup> and 3<sup>rd</sup> March, 2008, Kalabhavana, organized by the Department of History of Art, Kalabhavan, Viswabharati, after presenting a paper “City of God: The Performer in Exile, the Spectator in Exile”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">RAVANA KATHA</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">, a site specific DISPOSABLE theatre project, during the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">National Level Seminar</b> on <b>Cultural Practices and the Discourses on the “Minor”</b>, held in the Department of Art History and Aesthetics, M S University of Baroda, Feb 2007. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">OPHELIA</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">, a site specific installation-cum-performance project, during the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">National level workshop on Gender and Sexuality in the Disciplinary Paradigms</b>, organized by the Department of Art History and Aesthetics, M S University of Baroda, Jan 9-11, 2007 <b><i>Ophelia,</i></b> was first planned in December 2003 and staged in a national campus theatre festival, organized by <i>Abhivyakti</i>, New Delhi in February 2004 and then in Kalabhavana, Santiniketana in 11<sup>th</sup> March, 2004. <span style="color: black;">On the basis of the same text, with another text from Mahashweta devi alternative theatre director Parnab Mukherjee experienced <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Ophelia and O”</i></b> connecting the women all over the world referring Steven Bercoff’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“The Secret Love Life of Ophelia”</i></b> as a sub-text.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The Missing Pages</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">, an installation-cum-DISPOSABLE THEATRE project during the international seminar on “The Tourist Audience: Redefining the audience and Performers in Traditional Dance and Drama” in Kathmandu, Nepal, 26-28<sup>th</sup> December 2008. Also presenting "Proposal for a Disposable Theatre" in the seminar on "The Tourist Audience: Redefining the audience and Performers in Traditional Dance and Drama" in Kathmandu, Nepal, 26-28th December 2008.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Karengar Ligiri: Defining spaces into spaces</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> a site-specific architectural installation performance on Jyoti Prasad Agarwala's Birth centenary celebration in Rabindra Bhavana, Guwahati, 26<sup>th</sup> Oct 2003, based on the mostly celebrated play by Agarwala. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">THE CLOTH NARRATIVE</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">, A workshop based site-specific theatre-venture (12<sup>th</sup> Aug 2007) with theatrical forms and installation programs at the campus of Faculty of Fine Arts, MSU. This project was a part of the student’s protest around the events after 9<sup>th</sup> May 2007. Before this, another series of performances were designed and experienced as a mark of protest named as Fafundi for several times in the campus and in Prof C C Mehta Auditorium</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: 45.0pt 133.5pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">SABSE KHATARNAAK, Gadri Babeya Di Mela, Jalandhar, 31<sup>st</sup> Oct 2010. An open air performance based on Pash’s poetry and Maxim Gorky’s story “The Burning heart of Danko”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Some links to track Kankhowa:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/50951558@N00/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/50951558@N00/</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://kankhowa.blogspot.com/2010/05/just-like-that-performative.html">http://kankhowa.blogspot.com/2010/05/just-like-that-performative.html</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://kankhowa.ning.com/">http://kankhowa.ning.com/</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: #244061; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">About KANKHOWA: Born to Disturb</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Initiator and Promoter: Samudra Kajal Saikia</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Kankhowa is a non-registered informal group of art practitioners compiling people from various artistic disciplines. It includes art-historians, writers, media-activists, actors, musicians, painters and so on. Kankhowa mostly works in the interfaces of various disciplines and explores multiple possibilities with contemporary experimental theatrical practices. The “Born to Disturb” wing of Kankhowa is much more upfront performance venture that operates mostly with the direct communication of the performer and spectator in a live-art-form. This venture is known as The Disposable Theatre and it is grounded on the criticisms against the modern Indian Nationalist Cultural practices.</span></div><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><br />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" /><div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;"><div class="MsoFootnoteText"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=7633423352793266003#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a> a traditional Baul song of Bengal</div></div></div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-71258715289169182082011-10-29T01:10:00.000-07:002011-10-29T01:20:13.245-07:00House Talk: Santhosh Sakhinala in conversation with Tanmay Santra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;">House Talk<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Santhosh Sakhinala in conversation with Tanmay Santra<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN">Hyderabad, April - September, 2011</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpkM9p-xRsju_7p50RevtEVMUhUdOHTA7SUnT898GNst-N_H2BBXf8_CU5oJj5UwQUBBs7i-F5-eS8aMwKCBp1Ug9bS-YleZwIsMJiXTdKf0xR1RrWCwur4Spklwey1bkU66KKaBy-kU1/s1600/wc-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpkM9p-xRsju_7p50RevtEVMUhUdOHTA7SUnT898GNst-N_H2BBXf8_CU5oJj5UwQUBBs7i-F5-eS8aMwKCBp1Ug9bS-YleZwIsMJiXTdKf0xR1RrWCwur4Spklwey1bkU66KKaBy-kU1/s320/wc-8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: large;">(In course of the time we encountered Tanmay Santra's paintings and drawings which extensively uses the 'imagery of House' in his works. Santhosh K Sakhinala generates a conversation with the artist particularly for our ongoing project-Blog "Disposable House".) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTY7UUNd21PJyWDchHBalxKK0WysjzMOY0gXwl9tj2Y5RLbJEjU4fo_r1wriG-dIbirNzuidE2SR29_Ya9b3E-0Squwb4q_KphNZ-hX09yWCzhhKBio9IDsgVpHBc53uUsH80oXFS44Q3x/s1600/dry+pas-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTY7UUNd21PJyWDchHBalxKK0WysjzMOY0gXwl9tj2Y5RLbJEjU4fo_r1wriG-dIbirNzuidE2SR29_Ya9b3E-0Squwb4q_KphNZ-hX09yWCzhhKBio9IDsgVpHBc53uUsH80oXFS44Q3x/s320/dry+pas-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Santhosh:</span></b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tanmayda, I got the opportunity to see your work transforming through time. I feel there is a shift from the intimate, domestic nature of pictorial space to an open and arid type; may be a kind of move from home to outside. How do you see it?</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tanmay</span></b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">: </span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, my painterly practice over the past few years has changed after I moved to Hyderabad from Santiniketan. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">During student days at Kala Bhavan, through my works I attempted to articulate certain sensibilities with the help of objects and events that surrounded me. Gradually some other elements, related to my life, started coming into my work. Around that time ‘home’<i> </i>and ‘journey’ became two major concerns in my work. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In 2007 I moved from Santiniketan (West Bengal) to Hyderabad and joined Sarojini Naidu School of Arts & Communication as a Lecturer. I encountered a different kind of environment, culture and life style. I would look at countless vistas of wide barren land and rocks around my new home whenever I stepped out. I started roaming around to discover new places. Sometimes I got lost on the way, sometimes I also got lost between my past and my present. I saw lands get fragmented and compound walls being made. Experiences of seeing ‘This plot is not for sale’ or ‘This land belongs to...’ on the walls or boards became very familiar to me. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Initially I did some sketches and photographed several sites. Gradually these overwhelming construction projects which dominate the pulse of the new city arrested my attention. I began showing them in my paintings. Instead of showing physical activities like labourers engaged in construction works, I showed them in extreme solitude. I think it helped me unfold some other stories about how I look at my surroundings and life.</span><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzuul1J6bbJcmWzDJesXrIr0uhVbi8GCGCZc2LOUvVZoF4JI2J7emed1ob3LlWMv5vkqVAr5i9Uulvh_UTnUiRfb3MfVsxPxFXin85q0K8GHSINYqiq8klCim26x6GNNYbkpr7NeACv2n/s1600/dry+pas-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzuul1J6bbJcmWzDJesXrIr0uhVbi8GCGCZc2LOUvVZoF4JI2J7emed1ob3LlWMv5vkqVAr5i9Uulvh_UTnUiRfb3MfVsxPxFXin85q0K8GHSINYqiq8klCim26x6GNNYbkpr7NeACv2n/s320/dry+pas-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">SS:</span></b><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How do you understand the concept and experience of home? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">TS:</span></b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Home is a small word, but it is a strong one; stronger than the walls or the beams of a house, for me. Of course, primarily home means a physical space to stay in but conceptually it crosses that boundary. It actually may be a mental or psychic space where an individual lives. It should be a space where you really can grow and people understand you. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have numerous experiences of my relocation and displacement. This reminds me of a real incident which I heard from my mother and sisters. I still try to imagine the moment when my parents and the family had to leave my father’s ancestral house just before my birth. I heard from my sisters, who witnessed the moment, that after some arguments and agitation regarding the house and common property, they faced difficulties to stay there and decided to leave the house. The incident took a shape in my imagination which still haunts me. It seems to be a metaphor of displacement! Isn’t it? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I grew up in two-three places in Midnapore district, West Bengal. After my school days I moved to Kolkata where I stayed with my elder brother. There I encountered the reality of a cosmopolitan city which has a high percentage of migrant population and cultural diversity. After some time one of our sisters joined us. Next year my father passed away and my mother came to live with us. This became a home then. I lived there in south Kolkata for a decade. This place and its adjacent localities are the ‘colonies’ of displaced Bengalis who moved here from the East Bengal (now Bangladesh) after partition. I could sense how they feel about their homeland where there is no possibility of return. Though I am not a migrant in that sense, yet my mind, more or less, began being permeated by a very personal sense of loss or dispossession regarding home. It is still very difficult to talk about this situation. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I visited my old home for two times in last ten years. There are reasons and logic behind it, among which few things are not even clear to me. I sense that the bittersweet memories regarding my home may have transformed into a feeling of loss in my mind. And I imagine, if I go there, I would see those things from a distance as if that is not my home.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I am not sure whether I am able to convey all these layers of experiences and facts through my works. But you may see this as backdrop to read them. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSKj72ERzxyT4OShEi86tMvBOqMU5P1kkaYnsoIB4PGZVvqv1hcDZkPvqFMBtafqA-Vr3pH-QUHhv3J-r_UiwvHf-4YqcMJziFCvY9zNymwjcwQ8yyiO2R74tBy2QSH26PSPof8ICh_-5i/s1600/dry+pas-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSKj72ERzxyT4OShEi86tMvBOqMU5P1kkaYnsoIB4PGZVvqv1hcDZkPvqFMBtafqA-Vr3pH-QUHhv3J-r_UiwvHf-4YqcMJziFCvY9zNymwjcwQ8yyiO2R74tBy2QSH26PSPof8ICh_-5i/s320/dry+pas-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">SS:</span></b><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You stayed in Santiniketan for some time, studying and then working. Can</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> you share your experience and association with the place? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">TS:</span></b><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Life in Santiniketan is different from any other place in the world. It is a place designed and created by a poet-artist-thinker. I do not know whether there is any other example like that across the world. I was privileged to be associated with this place in many ways. This provided me many things. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I grew up in parts of rural Bengal, and lived for a decade in Kolkata, then came to Santiniketan. Being in Santiniketan was totally a different experience for me since it is a place which is neither urban and nor totally rural. I liked the place for many reasons. May be one of them was its semi-urban-semi-rural nature. Next thing would be of course its homely environment. Homely in the sense that it is a small town and everybody knows each other. If you walk away from the centre you see the village life there. Despite all its homely characteristics, it is ironical that when I wanted to rent a house, it was like any other place. I had both very bad and good experiences while staying in several rented houses there. Sometimes I joke that there are people of only two kinds in the world--- house-owners and tenants!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Anyway, when I was studying at the Art College in Kolkata, my idea of home began to change, and it took a more clear shape during my stay in Santiniketan. I have also been influenced by Salil-da’s concept of ‘home’, as he innovates constantly the possibilities of intimate and rich ways of living space. His ‘home’ has been far from a typical home or a typical artist’s studio; rather it is a unique mixture of theatricality, museum-like and artist’s studio-like space with a bed and a refrigerator. This is about artist Salil Sahani who lives and works in Santiniketan. And I think it can be a critique of how most of us generally ignore this aspect in our life. You know, I do not mean here that a well designed house makes a good home; but for me these experiences have opened up my perception about living space. </span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Al0vGZT8-5Yok8EPjo_9XoEdNtkLroHGKzNX4YLAAtmYOn0HbknLZBhoxQABSv5RFCAF77ZAZ55PNKPAajyV_eu23uMRGrCx9blx0KmAJfTlb4ZxwIJSD-_zbdXAVocmsKRP9YY6xjIH/s1600/wc-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Al0vGZT8-5Yok8EPjo_9XoEdNtkLroHGKzNX4YLAAtmYOn0HbknLZBhoxQABSv5RFCAF77ZAZ55PNKPAajyV_eu23uMRGrCx9blx0KmAJfTlb4ZxwIJSD-_zbdXAVocmsKRP9YY6xjIH/s320/wc-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">SS:</span></b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Let us make the Home public. You know, home is also related with the issues of class, region, geography, nation and other socio-political factors. Can you reflect on these issues, and are you trying also to address these issues through your work because, in the present historical condition house/Home is increasingly associated with the economics, money and status to a considerable extent. It is also becoming a mode of exploitation of various things like labour, land, resources etc. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">TS:</span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Initially I started working with the idea of home and some survival memories which are depicted through my personal and experiential perspectives. Again it may touch upon other wider contexts too. I think while I am talking about my personal understanding and experiences of ‘home’, I am also talking about power, money and politics indirectly. My experiences lead me to look outside, and I sensed how experiences of an individual become public. The present narrative is more or less autobiographical. But my intention is also to address many other related issues like inequalities in the distribution of property or land, social and personal aggressions etc. But I am not a social reformer or social activist in the general sense of the term. What I like is to transform some of these experiences into visual imagery, sometimes in a documentary mode, to evoke certain meanings and sensibilities. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjeB2FzGth-gEX10-whGdyxEB_P5nA7ivBCFdPHpXY-W6NkdPeFAwSrJow1nPSYBLJX4bZE8AMbQL8dRl5AMtqmiuMUuSLWi5AReWB09gKTvaZ6d0IT5U1jozxU51dGmg09PsHi58b6Al/s1600/wc-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjeB2FzGth-gEX10-whGdyxEB_P5nA7ivBCFdPHpXY-W6NkdPeFAwSrJow1nPSYBLJX4bZE8AMbQL8dRl5AMtqmiuMUuSLWi5AReWB09gKTvaZ6d0IT5U1jozxU51dGmg09PsHi58b6Al/s320/wc-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">SS:</span></b><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Very true. The experiences that we believe personal and particular, definitely involve certain level of universality. Is there any artist that you share a commonality in terms of your ideas and work, both in India and outside? Many artists have been engaged with the ideas of displacement, migration, alienation and urbanity which are inevitable in our condition of modernity.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">TS:</span></b><br />
<b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, many artists had dealt and have been dealing with these issues in our country and outside. I share a kind of commonality in terms of their ideas and works. For me life and works of Max Beckmann, George Grosz, Dorothea Lange and Frida Kahlo are very significant. In contemporary India, Zarina Hashmi, Subodh Gupta, Nataraj Sharma, Veer Munshi, Dilip Mitra, Alok Bal, Paula Sengupta, Archana Hande, Jagannath Panda, Sovan Kumar, Gigi Scaria among many others have been dealing with these issues in their work. Moreover, when I see or read some of the films or books which reflect these issues, I see a similarity with my engagement. In many of his films Ritwik Ghatak addressed the condition of refugee-hood and ‘home’ so poignantly that it moves me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwBGaYU6PUUjIvZLoeGAoGzuwpYMRDOWFE7IxcpgVwVsItigVc-rI0Y-zBuPvzEFa1BdoxpP47h1IFxmX35hKC0SompMBp1j4IFTM-UjwwtRuCSZ4qBDhf7MU4ocJbzdu2plg44N81FBoh/s1600/wc-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwBGaYU6PUUjIvZLoeGAoGzuwpYMRDOWFE7IxcpgVwVsItigVc-rI0Y-zBuPvzEFa1BdoxpP47h1IFxmX35hKC0SompMBp1j4IFTM-UjwwtRuCSZ4qBDhf7MU4ocJbzdu2plg44N81FBoh/s320/wc-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">SS:</span></b><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Another aspect intriguing about your work is the language of representation. It works with a particular kind of realism, which is selective and a collage of synoptic events or moments that are captured and put together. Again, your paintings also appear to have not involved expressionistic or emotional tendencies. They appear as austere pictorial calculations of certain sensibilities. Could you please tell us about these aspects?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">TS:</span></b><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, you see a kind of realism as a language of representation where my approach to painting is very minimal and simplistic. And you may find my fascination towards abstraction in the language of visual representation. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt;">A kind of silence dominates the picture plane and you see almost nobody in the represented space. Yet it may evoke a mood in the viewer to imagine its past and future (of land, of site). I find various aspects of drama behind it, the human drama! When I look at a construction site, grandiose, or even a simple walled plot, I imagine its past and the people who once will come to live there. And it refers to the basic needs and desire of common man. All these related perspectives and sensibilities are there while I am observing, nurturing or transforming these experiences into my visual imagery. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">These images of urban spaces are related to human beings, yet human presence is less emphasized. Perhaps I wanted to show this void, through which a kind of melancholic aspect can be conveyed. They also encode a sense of alienation and distance. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxysXnlIYD47Qj5-Py6zye-ccbTEOoDNIMtNZlO5Px9MojN9W5IFF42d4qvVaNpe-lFSVzM3TVpvlCaf0U-VML87ScP6fbHvrOUmpXzy9bXbozkyP9KGcMRA2MMxL0459XA4QfpDVi5Cv/s1600/wc-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxysXnlIYD47Qj5-Py6zye-ccbTEOoDNIMtNZlO5Px9MojN9W5IFF42d4qvVaNpe-lFSVzM3TVpvlCaf0U-VML87ScP6fbHvrOUmpXzy9bXbozkyP9KGcMRA2MMxL0459XA4QfpDVi5Cv/s320/wc-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">SS:</span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> After your Kolkata and Santiniketan-phase, you have been staying and working in Hyderabad for some time now. How do you see this place, which provides a home for you now? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">TS:</span></b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Though there are lots of differences between cultural environment and political scenario of these two places, I find similarities in many things. To certain extent, people here are not very different from the place where I am from. The city and the people seemed to me very lively and interesting. I like to see people; I like their courage, struggle --- the overall drama! I am interested in seeing people, their day-to-day life. Of course negotiating with certain things as a tenant, I live in an extended part of the city which is growing very fast. I am here amidst the small, as well as the vast overwhelming mega-projects of construction-works. Gradually I am getting known to people around me and overcoming my anxiety of being an outsider. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-nD23z2sb7eQQeBVH_WrbzxaZBU4JjbSeyQdGer986MUNCFbG07X0JYRT18NLzvAZBnxnzxL8VvHdmQM4kRbZG-PwNKlcEznEQtr8DZfEBN232_jxULwlMnVmg5DvZ4LJqqbWqbSq1wL/s1600/wc-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-nD23z2sb7eQQeBVH_WrbzxaZBU4JjbSeyQdGer986MUNCFbG07X0JYRT18NLzvAZBnxnzxL8VvHdmQM4kRbZG-PwNKlcEznEQtr8DZfEBN232_jxULwlMnVmg5DvZ4LJqqbWqbSq1wL/s320/wc-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">SS: </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It seems evident that your experiences of displacement and concept of home are reflected in your art practice. How does this affect your life style or day-to-day life now? <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">TS: </span></b><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, it affects my life style. For example, I am still very hesitant to buy a wardrobe or any other heavy furniture for my house. We are four in the family; yet, we live with only two metal trunks and three travel bags! I want very simple living and try avoiding any kind of luxury. I dislike being dominated by the household goods in the living space. And that reduces the anxiety of relocation too. I have been living in this colony called Gulmohar Park for nearly four years, and more than half a year in this house, the present one. I don’t know exactly how long we will stay here. You may have heard this popular saying, ‘Dhane-dhane-pe likha hai khane-valon ka naam’(It is written over every rice grain that who will eat it); I say, ‘Ghar-ghar-pe likha hai rahene-valon ka naam’ (It is written over every house that who will stay there)!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-42421016226354809652011-06-09T03:09:00.000-07:002011-11-03T14:29:40.420-07:00For how long are we going to make love in secret?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JDHENSpapQmAtQ_1moFygoLpiKDE6_mWFgV4twsUQrlCCtN7sdiRD0ENc-LKMZD01uWSo6fP3Z6jK0K_zC-6YRzAH6gs2wWqJQFFtpfVIcjG9T9P2kkREI4AJHX2DaLLWl6yYWIrpUhg/s1600/scan0688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JDHENSpapQmAtQ_1moFygoLpiKDE6_mWFgV4twsUQrlCCtN7sdiRD0ENc-LKMZD01uWSo6fP3Z6jK0K_zC-6YRzAH6gs2wWqJQFFtpfVIcjG9T9P2kkREI4AJHX2DaLLWl6yYWIrpUhg/s400/scan0688.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></b></span></blockquote><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">GUPUTE GUPUTE...</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">a song by Bhupen Hazarika</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">as Translated by</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Syeda Senim Zahan</b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">For how long are we going to make love in secret?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Let us sprinkle the colours of our love across the sky.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Come my love, let us show the world and its customs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Our two hearts as large as the sea.</span><span lang="AS" style="font-family: Vrinda; font-size: 15pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">How can youth be stained?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">How can light be stopped?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Do the waves ever neglect the sea?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your eyes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your bosom</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your each look is beautiful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Every touch is melting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Open the windows</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Open the doors of this locked house</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">O my love!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">We don’t need to show discipline </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Or propriety any more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Can you bind love by rules?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Does a storm have any boundary?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Can you cover the dawn</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">With a garland of shame?</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">KANKHOWA'S NOTE:</span></div><blockquote><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Eroticism and sexuality appear in Dr. Bhupen Hazarika’s multiple Assamese songs. In fact nobody dared to deal with eroticism and sexuality in Assamese cultural practices ever after or before Bhupen Hazarika. The song “Gupute Gupute” starts with a dramatic orchestration and the orchestration gives a sense of conflict-within throughout the song. Many followers of Dr. Hazarika sang the song in course of time. But nobody ever could attain the sense of directness of sexuality either in the texture of their voices or in the background scoring. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">Dr. Bhupen Hazarika establishes the modernist iconography of the “ARTIST” in Assamese cultural practice. The Iconography later on accepted by the middle class Assamese society very well. The nationalism and the slogan of “Unity in Diversity” were so widely populated that the subjectivity of the artist obscured in the later phase. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">We heard the song again and again, but we could not understand the meaning when he says to open up the doors and windows of the locked house. Neither could we understand the way he spoke so. Perhaps, as Kankhowa believs, he was speaking of DISPOSING the house…</span></div></blockquote></blockquote><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOalHEG-YrBVPHsdbioyGA-d5ST3nGN93NjkaGYTwLi1UwVaIoxXptKhOHm-JNOpuM_498bkoeZBfGD0NawYl-zMA3REpIkaZIhyphenhyphenMsqJDNJeiUu_sP8PQB_Z3JaWQTTNMvhJYzvkdpLBf/s1600/197259_1899046833252_1154093933_2251836_292843_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOalHEG-YrBVPHsdbioyGA-d5ST3nGN93NjkaGYTwLi1UwVaIoxXptKhOHm-JNOpuM_498bkoeZBfGD0NawYl-zMA3REpIkaZIhyphenhyphenMsqJDNJeiUu_sP8PQB_Z3JaWQTTNMvhJYzvkdpLBf/s640/197259_1899046833252_1154093933_2251836_292843_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">painting by Anuradha Upadhyay</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-48687567084162228552011-05-17T00:06:00.000-07:002011-05-18T04:03:45.050-07:00THE BODY HOUSE OF AN ACTOR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">A Disposable Theatre text: Samudra Kajal Saikia</span></span><br />
<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">Photo Courtesy: Anuradha Upadhyaya</span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;">surveillance</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
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</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">The roof of Kankhowa’s house leaks</div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Thousands of eyes from the evening sky</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Keep staring at me</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot go out</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot stay in</span></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;">I am an actor</span></b></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGuDFdy3n84lX_yfHUGOBnMoDjib0E_aTtuHDcIGLv0zhEdXKgMC9JOhG9dN7KjEBIsBwx_OeIwLGVry6WgrfmtMvcxz1ml6B-JyUJxJMG5XxI_xcSc6WewCfSawIwkD8rhFUuaWbBCpHC/s1600/47678_463805214178_745069178_6363100_1099486_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGuDFdy3n84lX_yfHUGOBnMoDjib0E_aTtuHDcIGLv0zhEdXKgMC9JOhG9dN7KjEBIsBwx_OeIwLGVry6WgrfmtMvcxz1ml6B-JyUJxJMG5XxI_xcSc6WewCfSawIwkD8rhFUuaWbBCpHC/s320/47678_463805214178_745069178_6363100_1099486_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">image from "Ghar Katha", The Body House of an actor part </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I am an actor. Very limited my abilities are.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Long ago I left my home in the name of further studies.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I know, most of you have the same story.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But as an actor I dwell in this particular body.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This body of mine is my house.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Wherever I go, I carry this house with me.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Or, say, this mobile house brings me within it.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot go out of this house.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If I do, I’m no more an actor.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes I feel neither can I enter in this house of mine.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It seems to be ridiculous, but, such thoughts come to my mind most often.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If acting is an art, I transform this very body to an art object,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and present it in front of you.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dear audience, see, look at me, I am doing the same at this particular moment.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This time I cannot go out of this space</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and take a nap.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot have a cup of coffee.</span></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;">Buy me. Purchase me.</span></b></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1AoZLnANCRh2UtdMTbK9FKOfRAezIB2x97_8u_CxxZi6E80ZJ3_axnejwmS0P87aTkODiykFjP8arqnovEwZnZH3VMNJl0ZhgMftRifrUINj5q9Pp6OW2Puh24XRvomlgwj6qnDakh_B/s1600/226346_1983930155282_1154093933_2364741_5062362_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1AoZLnANCRh2UtdMTbK9FKOfRAezIB2x97_8u_CxxZi6E80ZJ3_axnejwmS0P87aTkODiykFjP8arqnovEwZnZH3VMNJl0ZhgMftRifrUINj5q9Pp6OW2Puh24XRvomlgwj6qnDakh_B/s320/226346_1983930155282_1154093933_2364741_5062362_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes I wish if I could cut your hair and make money.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I am an actor with limited abilities.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I know very little things, very little things I can do</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I can’t fly a kite properly; I don’t know how to drive a car</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Neither do I know how to play the <i>dotara</i></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I love you so much without even knowing you</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">how much would I love, after seeing you, I rarely can assume</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I can't write a poem.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was better if I were a farmer. A cloth marchant.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">To sale my goods and make money.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Buy me. Purchase me. I am for sale.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was better if I were a painter.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I would have made a painting and sale it and make money.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But I’m a performer.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I turn my body to an art work. I don't make art. I am the art.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Buy me.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I want to make money.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Purchase me.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t have a house to sale out and to make money.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot rent a house to dwell in.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I carry on a house, my body, all the times</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">4</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;">I am an actor.</span></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIHWea9qK3bgoXDoz4u0MQ3EzNDw_7v_Xk7FvPkqyt9k5ma4uT7jDowM8WharV5SOPtt0SLAvSC4cUndSyQ_dT-jgt6AXwlO2mWhEpUtktAN97GtAKPxrc3RM9Tnd71qLcdvSD3Iyoit4/s1600/230284_1983922395088_1154093933_2364728_1441988_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIHWea9qK3bgoXDoz4u0MQ3EzNDw_7v_Xk7FvPkqyt9k5ma4uT7jDowM8WharV5SOPtt0SLAvSC4cUndSyQ_dT-jgt6AXwlO2mWhEpUtktAN97GtAKPxrc3RM9Tnd71qLcdvSD3Iyoit4/s320/230284_1983922395088_1154093933_2364728_1441988_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Before and after being an actor, I am a spectator.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I see things. I can see things.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have to see things. I have to see other people seeing me.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, if I am an actor,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">there are many spectators inside me, dwelling inside my house.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As a result I get confused, how many people reside inside my house.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I lose myself, inside my house.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As my house is overcrowded I cannot enter in the house.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I remember Lalon Fakir. I remember Kabir.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">5</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;">I enter out I exit in…</span></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGsGxJMZsgAaCL5kWXt6cSM0BXwV7ayXG8PP2KJCkPWSrkDFcv6AsjRhSrutSzOTymrHVB8EZUteZ8pFuM8sguZyDA2MMM7dM0_4ha6ZmaDrfaZI2rOoYm84S7AlgfjO-1lj8n0UB3Q8a/s1600/229885_1983929435264_1154093933_2364739_6215308_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGsGxJMZsgAaCL5kWXt6cSM0BXwV7ayXG8PP2KJCkPWSrkDFcv6AsjRhSrutSzOTymrHVB8EZUteZ8pFuM8sguZyDA2MMM7dM0_4ha6ZmaDrfaZI2rOoYm84S7AlgfjO-1lj8n0UB3Q8a/s320/229885_1983929435264_1154093933_2364739_6215308_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There is somebody else dwelling inside my house.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Neither I can see nor can I touch, beyond of my knowledge.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Though I hardly know his name, I can feel his grief.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We’re in the same house, yet an impassable chasm between us.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No postman ever came, in search of him.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The telephone never rang for him.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I mostly buy vegetables for him as well</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When I do it for me, I care for him.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He never comes out of the house, and for that</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot put a lock at my door when I go to the office.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(As if suffering from asthma trouble) he does not sleep at night.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mostly I also spend a sleepless night, listening to the mice.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I play the ektaara, and you pick up the percussion</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But who spoils the rhythm, I can’t guess.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You prepare the color and I paint the canvas with passion</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But who is there to make it a mess? </span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">In search of him again and again I enter in and I come out</span></div><div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I enter in the house and come out of the house and in and out…</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And thus at a time I get confused, I’m in or actually I’m out.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I enter out me exit in, I exit in I enter out…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">6</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">HOUSE INSIDE THE HOUSE</span></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=7633423352793266003#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeP-KwOt-1BTt1GARr_PniAqdn2nXCaPFWSBwMj69NJosKYdFC_yLRdz3lNZ9gHpGMLdaBwotCZ0RDtNscrSkrxTZnye7LIGrmNQqVyc6n68zPwUislNDZS1xrD1eHjOYNi_vFsDiYIf2h/s1600/224322_1983933715371_1154093933_2364747_5454695_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeP-KwOt-1BTt1GARr_PniAqdn2nXCaPFWSBwMj69NJosKYdFC_yLRdz3lNZ9gHpGMLdaBwotCZ0RDtNscrSkrxTZnye7LIGrmNQqVyc6n68zPwUislNDZS1xrD1eHjOYNi_vFsDiYIf2h/s320/224322_1983933715371_1154093933_2364747_5454695_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
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</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dear,</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Amongst the crowd I do search for you.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There is a house inside the house</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And inside the house inside the house there is another house</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And inside the house inside the house inside the house there is another one</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And inside the house inside the house inside the house there is another one</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Which is inside the house, and…</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">then another house inside the…</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t know inside which one you inhabit.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I enter here in search of you, and you go to the other.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If I go there, you simply move to another one.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My days are passing just like that only.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For long days</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m neither inside the house, nor outside actually</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t know how many houses are there</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Inside my house</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Neither I know who the rascal built it</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One thing I know only is, you are there somewhere</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You are there.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With a constant stare.</span></span></div><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;"> </span></b><br />
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<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">Photo Courtesy: Anuradha Upadhyay</span></span><br />
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<span class="MsoFootnoteReference">Notes:</span><br />
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<span class="MsoFootnoteReference">THE BODY HOUSE OF AN ACTOR</span><br />
<span class="MsoFootnoteReference">was partially performed in Ghar Katha, a disposable theatre experience</span><br />
<span class="MsoFootnoteReference">as a part of the 75th anniversary of Baroda Ameteur Dramatic Club</span><br />
<span class="MsoFootnoteReference">Manjalpur, baroda, 28th Aug. 2010</span><br />
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<blockquote><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As an artefact the body constructs its viewers (and their expectations), while viewers' expectations construct a body's contours. </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">Anuradha Kapur, "Actors Prepare", </span></b></span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">Theatre India, National School of Drama's Theatre Journal, </span></b></span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">May 2004, Number Nine, ed. by, K S Rajendran, pp. 8</span></b></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Actors are probably the only art makers who can be told (in response to gestures they make with <i>their</i> vocal and physical apparatus, <i>their</i> own attributes and <i>their</i> responses) by an observer that what they have palpably executed is not <i>real</i> or <i>truthful</i>. </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">Anuradha Kapur, "Actors Prepare", </span></b></span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">Theatre India, National School of Drama's Theatre Journal, </span></b></span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">May 2004, Number Nine, ed. by, K S Rajendran, pp. 9</span></b></span></div></blockquote><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><br />
</span></div><div></div><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;"> </span></b> <b><span style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><br />
</span></span></div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-79642984701872161762011-05-04T04:43:00.000-07:002016-03-22T22:29:14.975-07:00Storied House: an interactive stop motion animation project in public realm<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ynRwjdbyZy8/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ynRwjdbyZy8?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<b style="text-align: left;">An interactive stop motion animation film by Mahan J Dutta in public realm</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As a part of the Public art project by Samudra Kajal Saikia: </span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;">Disposable
House, </span></b><span style="line-height: 115%;">The imagery of HOUSE in individual and collective memories</span></div>
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Around the concerns around “House” two proposals for ‘Public Art’ were developed. One was making of a public-wall-painted-animation film and the other was performative activity oriented project – “Disposable House”. During the discussion with the juries of FICA Public Art Grant there was a suggestion if I could combine both the projects into one. However, we partially tried to inculcate both the ideas.</div>
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I discussed my concerns and my interest with Mahan Jyoti Dutta and he took up a relatively smaller project in Ahmedabad. Mahan did his BFA in sculpture from Kalabhavan, Santiniketan and diploma in Film and Video making from NID, Ahmedabad. He already had interest in such an interactive process of film making. So we discussed and developed an interactive stop motion animation film making <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>project in the old city of Ahmedabad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a much lesser time span and expanses Mahan developed and executed the idea in his own way, which we title as the “STORIED HOUSE”. </div>
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The artists involved into this project are: Mahan Jyoti Dutta, Niwesh Gurung, Amit Kumar Das and Saheb Ram Tudu. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaSIHqKmTqJA_WfHXMSJOTroIBn_bUDiJDj94p2rOh9g_oYsmUKe3HXdl4vzhh9db-7X71dBgqIHh6oA0fK_lrv9tKfMvReegai4WV-VeRfNjdwt5Eb6kHz046rQWQviWyrP0QN2AEHQO/s1600/167557_10150136650819179_745069178_7827832_4844309_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaSIHqKmTqJA_WfHXMSJOTroIBn_bUDiJDj94p2rOh9g_oYsmUKe3HXdl4vzhh9db-7X71dBgqIHh6oA0fK_lrv9tKfMvReegai4WV-VeRfNjdwt5Eb6kHz046rQWQviWyrP0QN2AEHQO/s320/167557_10150136650819179_745069178_7827832_4844309_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">"It
is inside the Pole near Manek Chowk in Ahmedabad. When I had the first view, I
almost made up my mind to set the film at that location. The place is like an
uplifted courtyard (<i>Aangan) </i>at the
centre of the locality. On the opposite side of the main wall there is a
temple. That whole area was actually a huge <i>Haveli</i>
which was destroyed in the Gujarat earthquake. The remaining of the <i>Haveli </i>(like, remaining of doors,
windows, pillars etc.) still lingers the space. Now the space is used for
community gatherings. The fact that the space which used be a <i>haveli</i> (palace) and now a courtyard for
the community living in that area was quite inspiring to do this WALL animation
on the theme of HOUSE (disposable house)", Mahan Jyoti Dutta says. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">"Like
any other <i>Pole </i>in the old city of
Ahmedabad this location too was very crowded, dingy, chaotic place surrounded
by old buildings. The people were Hindu.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6T5Lzg3MEUzrVyJ4ts1Vg280Us6T1r2trmvRTUJ-M9rxrQXMMgDtne3mDNqPO-T9zk9XEHAAXAs8XC_UTmE3u32jHMg-4IA_9xi1g2Nv30T73xee3MJwc3JiSitYupXBp6v-n5zIpmj8/s1600/storied+House+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6T5Lzg3MEUzrVyJ4ts1Vg280Us6T1r2trmvRTUJ-M9rxrQXMMgDtne3mDNqPO-T9zk9XEHAAXAs8XC_UTmE3u32jHMg-4IA_9xi1g2Nv30T73xee3MJwc3JiSitYupXBp6v-n5zIpmj8/s400/storied+House+007.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">After we
all came up with the initial idea about doing a wall animation me and Niwesh
looked around for location in the old city of Ahmedabad. Ahmedabad is well
known as a city of walls and gates. Incidentally we saw this huge wall inside a
<i>pole </i>which seemed to be perfect for
our purpose due to the wide open surrounding, light condition, the remaining of
the broken <i>haveli </i>and other elements
all around the space. The space was very convenient for animation and its
shooting. So from the next day itself we started shooting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">"We
didn't face any difficulties in getting permission for such a work in that
particular place. In fact the owner of that space, who use to stay in the next
house, and the other people within the locality were very much cooperative and
interactive with us throughout the process". <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">About
public reaction: "Same as above. At first the people were very curious to
see and know about what we were going to do because they didn’t have any idea
about stop-motion animation. But after shooting for quite some time we played
it back on the camera itself and the small crowd gathered at the spot were very
excited to see how an image moves".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ejDlxAn0I-Xz8xmYN2t-j5p32DstE2mBLPYVzr9oUWkaKct8_D2nBgFP0faqH6N_Xj5SfavhaGjgBwNbiYKBwAnGOaSyRwYCOXhJrl5rhtC_xkzlYAiD24J6EJsRWLYq2zrD725qc0-O/s1600/storied+House+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ejDlxAn0I-Xz8xmYN2t-j5p32DstE2mBLPYVzr9oUWkaKct8_D2nBgFP0faqH6N_Xj5SfavhaGjgBwNbiYKBwAnGOaSyRwYCOXhJrl5rhtC_xkzlYAiD24J6EJsRWLYq2zrD725qc0-O/s320/storied+House+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">"The
biggest and the best “accidental circumstance” is the animation itself. I had a
complete different story in my mind on the basis of the original concept by
Samudra Kajal Saikia and I did make a storyboard for that. But the moment we
started our work we threw away storyboard and only on the basis of the original
concept we went on a complete spontaneous animation making use of the space
(its location, structure, properties around and the changing light pattern)".
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pUN8aL-ZO-F90wNKsUI28XKcpNxop3NDep2hQ3033OBgNu9YgX6mNYe1fFZAt6p07dVm5KGWsSo4zk8hKUKJ1A5dlnXIu4aYxUryMMtslm0X9Fv50pCi2xTFChRXLwubv566qTs_ZK0Z/s1600/storied+House+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pUN8aL-ZO-F90wNKsUI28XKcpNxop3NDep2hQ3033OBgNu9YgX6mNYe1fFZAt6p07dVm5KGWsSo4zk8hKUKJ1A5dlnXIu4aYxUryMMtslm0X9Fv50pCi2xTFChRXLwubv566qTs_ZK0Z/s400/storied+House+006.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">"The
whole process of making was quite fun and as we all four are very good friend
we were cracking jocks, pulling each other’s leg and enjoyed working with paint
stains all over our body, dust and dirt and the scorching sun of Ahmedabad".
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">What
could happen if you didn’t do this event in this particular location, but in
some other location?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">"As
you have understood from the earlier answer, if it was some other location it
would have been a completely different piece of work".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfOtr7EYVEdZBEtNNqbAeRli9wfNgM9PA8rqS9gIr6_y30eOzua_pK55gkU8atBWhbxEShNJjukBrTiIf5pT4q_Saj1kstb0Ge-wo3oe8xLheagJIQSqjQQ8W1onoBqm11tEiPzLm5a3S/s1600/storied+House+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfOtr7EYVEdZBEtNNqbAeRli9wfNgM9PA8rqS9gIr6_y30eOzua_pK55gkU8atBWhbxEShNJjukBrTiIf5pT4q_Saj1kstb0Ge-wo3oe8xLheagJIQSqjQQ8W1onoBqm11tEiPzLm5a3S/s320/storied+House+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">How this project may address the larger
public or larger issues?<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Tell me about your engagement with film
and video and animation. Comment on the contemporary “media-entertainment
industries” from a working artist’s perspective.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-KU50Ak-ZDaOWXY3YWSLKoXBiPL9PKoSG6dQOCUcDxbKRldLhSGvmDIaGVnYOcAFU8FCvYJ2FvLHTRomBtstYpGS6JEjGvZ14iwF1AEDrb9CyV_r4vT7AbJbAVE47ikJ_aBE_76Q5HQCd/s1600/storied+House+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-KU50Ak-ZDaOWXY3YWSLKoXBiPL9PKoSG6dQOCUcDxbKRldLhSGvmDIaGVnYOcAFU8FCvYJ2FvLHTRomBtstYpGS6JEjGvZ14iwF1AEDrb9CyV_r4vT7AbJbAVE47ikJ_aBE_76Q5HQCd/s320/storied+House+003.JPG" width="317" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Well, we always have to consider the fact that we are painting a wall
which is at a public space. And we all realize the fact that walls are not just
made with concrete and bricks. Therefore, when rebellious artist paints graffiti
it is not at all same like making a painting on a sensitive political (or any
other) sensitive issue which would be seen in art exhibition or gallery. It is
like a slogan in a protest march which one can’t ignore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Even animation, which is generally a studio based, indoor activity
make the similar kind of impact when it comes out to a larger public space. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Animation we see on our television, computer or sometime even on
bigger screen. But wherever we see we see it as a complete film and not the
key-frames. When an image moves on a public wall, it not only draws the
attention from the audience of the animation film (which actually comes out
through digital media much later the process of painting, animating, editing
and effects) but the people witnessing the performance of painting itself. And
even after the painting is finished it remains for certain time at that place,
unless it is destroyed/ removed for certain reasons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhcxomjvDdhXBbyWummlCfcf5oHL7XqotpypUJuvlsShFMvtbWTSRoWtvNVyTW4IsSO3J69u45ZjvECje-96C-3EmgOFPISQSaMAFaxgASqjjOnro20Ow-vN83jej9v91FQuUvZv5DyXE/s1600/storied+House+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhcxomjvDdhXBbyWummlCfcf5oHL7XqotpypUJuvlsShFMvtbWTSRoWtvNVyTW4IsSO3J69u45ZjvECje-96C-3EmgOFPISQSaMAFaxgASqjjOnro20Ow-vN83jej9v91FQuUvZv5DyXE/s320/storied+House+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Here, I don’t want to discuss or say how it is technically difficult
or different to make an animation on a public wall from a studio production.
But during the process/ production one thing I have noticed that when art comes
out of studio, the reactions of the audience change drastically. Let me explain
the point in a clearer way. We see films (live action/ animation) in theaters
or on TV. All these films mostly fall under the category of commercial films.
But there are “other kinds” of films too; which are not easily available,
excisable for “common audience.” These films are generally seen in film
festivals, certain organizations, private screening, and personal collections. Not
to mention, common people try to stay aloof from these “art films” because this
is a common myth that “art films” are mostly abstract or difficult to
understand. Considering this myth people choose to stay ignorant about it and
do not want to enjoy an abstract form of art, painting, animation, films etc. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">This is my personal view that I realized during the production that,
when we were painting THEIR wall in spite of the certain abstraction in imagery
and concepts people were taking part in the process as an audience and enjoying
it too. The process of painting/ animation too was quite spontaneous as I
mentioned earlier. But I realized that the reason behind it was mainly the fact
that WE CAME TO THEIR SPACE which is a public space. Here art, artist, public
nobody can ignore the presence of each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpwoDYDRzWJ0NC45Mue80roNq2zEsMY1Tu6IuN-l4klFRMs2o7YwxGfNreWiRZZvIGTS-DXk60P77a16AFpJaDFRc943jOxD8IUmSDZlvBmpDiidYFlvaKAnZkJ4KK16Gbn12hXgnPKs8/s1600/storied+House+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpwoDYDRzWJ0NC45Mue80roNq2zEsMY1Tu6IuN-l4klFRMs2o7YwxGfNreWiRZZvIGTS-DXk60P77a16AFpJaDFRc943jOxD8IUmSDZlvBmpDiidYFlvaKAnZkJ4KK16Gbn12hXgnPKs8/s320/storied+House+005.JPG" width="317" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">In India, animation is still limited in a very small circle of cartoonish,
comedy or shot of advertising and promotional films. Even mainstream
film-making is also overshadowed by commercial Hindi, Tamil or other bigger
regional film industries. Popular culture always has a large impact on the
contemporary art practice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Being a part of this big entertainment market, I prefer not to project
this entertainment industry in a negative manner. Because of the big growth in
entertainment industry and media technology it is allowing the independent film
makers and media artist to take up alternative ways. Especially the digital
revolution made film making a more democratic and public medium. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">It is often considered that the subversive forms and mediums are not
commercial or if the subversions come to the mainstream it won’t remain
alternative to the “mainstream media” anymore. To a certain extend it is true.
But main-stream media is a diluted form with a complex mixture of thousand
forms. Therefore, in the bigger picture we see that “mainstream media” gets
enriched and enhanced with the supplements from all the alternative mediums and
vice-a-versa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I personally do not agree with the fact that subversive mediums cannot
be commercial because they are made for niche audience; neither have I believed
that alternative mediums are not commercial because they are niche. In a
country of more than a billion even a certain amount of audience can be a very
promising consumer to let it grow commercially. Alternative can grow and <u>sustain
</u>in its own independent zone with commercial value. That will be even more a
powerful force.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">To be very specific to a medium like wall animation I would like to
say that it does not stay within the aspects and limitation of a film-making or
painting. It can go far beyond. As a medium, it deals with physical involvement
in a particular space which can be a public space sometime. Because of this it
can also be presented as a performance. It also opens possibilities for
interaction of the artist with the “public”(people) around through this medium.
In my next project I have plan to take this medium to a level of performance
and interaction.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
http://vimeo.com/21745846?ab</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyj-tyfx9zw7HBy2UVc54NdYVtdSlJItPNrpL5uWM7ldF9eZUXP3jygZguBwjf-kzdEdxlUtBUR8sNpz67trg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-39319617373041971742011-03-25T23:02:00.000-07:002011-03-25T23:02:19.832-07:00My Grandfather's Chair<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcZUi6wMjKu5lDFmb4Sr7QcCHOMKV-n9s0fCy5nA-0uL0V-CoQFki1jn7fUP3gk2OzkxPDm576rlv7NSJ4MM4jvTnjQfY3z3-0E05exxeqKpaMeFkAA8EoAxsOhA8WRqVKTzNZKRq4SmT/s1600/1+chair_+cover+front+%2526+back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcZUi6wMjKu5lDFmb4Sr7QcCHOMKV-n9s0fCy5nA-0uL0V-CoQFki1jn7fUP3gk2OzkxPDm576rlv7NSJ4MM4jvTnjQfY3z3-0E05exxeqKpaMeFkAA8EoAxsOhA8WRqVKTzNZKRq4SmT/s320/1+chair_+cover+front+%2526+back.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">MY GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This story was written around seven years ago. a theatrical situation was in mind since then. but that was materialized only in December 2008. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were ahead to an international theatre festival-cum seminar </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">on <b>The Tourist Audience: Redefining the audience and Performers in Traditional Dance and Drama</b> in Kathmandu, Nepal, 26-28<sup>th</sup> December 2008.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with a seminar paper we in the name of KANKHOWA experienced an installation-cum-performance project THE MISSING PAGES (compiling artisans from several places. this narration was a part of the project. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAeJ3VZn9L9MQCBv0T4S87OThomlycWJXgEDfRbceZqwGoNfryMqLxH-R11HKl3fwVNWyR6u8HKJ9j7jXV1f1wfhzPP88sbchwiB2W6P1RJxs7CGhixDzsHTeRz3rH4kAC0cQkKwo1f6Mi/s1600/chair+page+no+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAeJ3VZn9L9MQCBv0T4S87OThomlycWJXgEDfRbceZqwGoNfryMqLxH-R11HKl3fwVNWyR6u8HKJ9j7jXV1f1wfhzPP88sbchwiB2W6P1RJxs7CGhixDzsHTeRz3rH4kAC0cQkKwo1f6Mi/s320/chair+page+no+5.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAifN6FLkvz0-Y4TX7qNmp_g3myH7_HrQRhiRy21Icok2AsbaGK55I_o7Lf7GxAU_69PLjgJx4q4Utco9QtvCj6mJZwZEA4D06xU4x06aIKxAVa1XQdmTVYBaQ-AUCDscsSbkBbQj0Q25/s1600/mere+dadajee+ki+kursi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAifN6FLkvz0-Y4TX7qNmp_g3myH7_HrQRhiRy21Icok2AsbaGK55I_o7Lf7GxAU_69PLjgJx4q4Utco9QtvCj6mJZwZEA4D06xU4x06aIKxAVa1XQdmTVYBaQ-AUCDscsSbkBbQj0Q25/s320/mere+dadajee+ki+kursi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The performance was in Hindi, with one actor on stage, named as “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mere dadaji ki Kursi</i></b>” (by Samudra Kajal Saikia). The participators of the debate were: Shakti Bhatt, Akhilesh Arya, Kaustubh das, Komal Pande and Nila Saikia. Place: Rastriya Nach Ghar, Kathmandu, Nepal. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Later it was planned for a publication as an illustrated story book. but somehow the process stopped and the book was not published. </span><br />
<div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Story</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPbF7ajZJBwWVS9xnBFvAPuogjepy5fS1AsaALCXLauNDhVvoHAmX8WBpHBLhuUVcIkmj0KUmPzHURyR53M1Kev-4ak244_dmDthMzN5UQU8sxW0Ry_bsiUPyqgjKBTNyISuNR9a5fwgR6/s1600/chair+page+no+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPbF7ajZJBwWVS9xnBFvAPuogjepy5fS1AsaALCXLauNDhVvoHAmX8WBpHBLhuUVcIkmj0KUmPzHURyR53M1Kev-4ak244_dmDthMzN5UQU8sxW0Ry_bsiUPyqgjKBTNyISuNR9a5fwgR6/s320/chair+page+no+7.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh! Why are you so many people sitting here, what are you looking at? Why this chair is here? I see, this is the only chair my grandfather used to sit. How did it find a place here? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Well, let me tell you about this chair only.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8G1FA_eJ0DBiPtKRVXwzF9ATG1XpEmj3sBgi4K4KDc7mxcC4ecI4VTG0R3mLwEgf85YvFsowROb6WRnvRqmzbp_5cxe93qUK9FaaoolSdSwEqxB5UTi5wCOQVYDHcQMeYTN68_5SSWvu/s1600/chair+page+no+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8G1FA_eJ0DBiPtKRVXwzF9ATG1XpEmj3sBgi4K4KDc7mxcC4ecI4VTG0R3mLwEgf85YvFsowROb6WRnvRqmzbp_5cxe93qUK9FaaoolSdSwEqxB5UTi5wCOQVYDHcQMeYTN68_5SSWvu/s320/chair+page+no+8.jpg" width="249" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div></div><br />
<div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There was a long portico in our house. Sunlight used to embed it across a bamboo screen intricately designed with some star-shaped motifs. On the other side of that bamboo-partition there was a huge courtyard. </span></div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot remember exactly how long this chair was in that portico. Perhaps it was hard for my father as well to guess that. I witnessed my grandfather being seated there - like this. Huh-uh, yeah, exactly like this. </span></div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GvftW_v3T4XUF1REkLHmuqf5fzMDs3m81lanGWUKRCZzE2BtzxCIgqgBr34PLFA7QnQsjxDhT9u4pF8BoZ_pUswlKSNM_HlpSyYZG5nsl-onebjgWN3pgH_4wql_jZE4ZSVIXhhk7lLg/s1600/chair+page+no+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GvftW_v3T4XUF1REkLHmuqf5fzMDs3m81lanGWUKRCZzE2BtzxCIgqgBr34PLFA7QnQsjxDhT9u4pF8BoZ_pUswlKSNM_HlpSyYZG5nsl-onebjgWN3pgH_4wql_jZE4ZSVIXhhk7lLg/s320/chair+page+no+11.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Being seated in this chair my grandfather used to sink in his bottomless thoughts. Staring at my grandfather's face, I too used to think randomly. As the courtyard was a static, inorganic thing, - as the portico or the chair were static things, the impression of thoughts on my grandfather's face was static like them. I also tried to sit bearing a grave, motionless, static facial expression on my face. But it was not possible for me. I became restless very often. My grandfather pinched at my smooth, plain and soft cheeks and used to offer teeth-less smile at me. I also pinched back at his uneven, folded and loose-skinned cheeks, and used to think: when would my cheeks turn like them! When my cheeks would turn as uneven as my grandfather's, when they would tremble at the time of chewing the grinned betel-nuts, only then I would be able to sit with that desired consistency: with all those 'thoughts' - what I had no idea about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span> </div></div><br />
<div align="center"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdc0osSugFGAEpssmzeIZZom4qqHYDobeAFvoFfDLgqlC44078foT5JW5yGbn121mPq6c6Y8dBhixYgFppDuYtnQKRsmZRvK5x2EaL-9rC7Dqmtj2t547ioeZpup70XxdkTkezkXFZox-/s1600/chair+page+no+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdc0osSugFGAEpssmzeIZZom4qqHYDobeAFvoFfDLgqlC44078foT5JW5yGbn121mPq6c6Y8dBhixYgFppDuYtnQKRsmZRvK5x2EaL-9rC7Dqmtj2t547ioeZpup70XxdkTkezkXFZox-/s320/chair+page+no+12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I had a keen desire - I would deserve such a chair of mine. As per my knowledge is concern, this chair was as it is - always: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">tarnished</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> with colors, superannuated. It could fall apart at any point of time. But what I felt was somehow different - for me it appeared as the most novel chair on earth. Among all the chairs in the world, it was the most graceful with its newness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The chair was static. Stable. A constant. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The chair was the most powerful. A thousand of elephants won't be able to do any harm to it ever. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One day a sudden hue and cry along with the reverberating drums and gongs woke me up. All people were running out of house and were uttering the God's name. My mother embraced me tightly in her lap and asked to pray the Gods, it was an earthquake! I forcibly freed myself from my mother's embrace and ran to my grandfather's chair and grabbed the chair as tightly as I could - just like this, hmm, like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><br />
<div align="center"></div><div align="justify" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZhyphenhyphenA-DctfNpAQ1N5BKgzck-n1R8-CHiZr7ZDERU67jugfcgT733IEPkwWZjHg_P4eSx-oLXn3mm1hGhp2tbain9kHtLnJiFgq_WX4Ar16Rhg3ltugdl_GezGEbc8j_rrmo0yZq8ylJCt/s1600/chair+page+no+15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZhyphenhyphenA-DctfNpAQ1N5BKgzck-n1R8-CHiZr7ZDERU67jugfcgT733IEPkwWZjHg_P4eSx-oLXn3mm1hGhp2tbain9kHtLnJiFgq_WX4Ar16Rhg3ltugdl_GezGEbc8j_rrmo0yZq8ylJCt/s320/chair+page+no+15.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My grandfather is no more today.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The chair lost its place. The betel-nut grinder (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Khundana</i>) of my grandfather was displaced. The portico became empty. The courtyard remained vacant. I didn't weep a bit at my grandfather's death. Perhaps, I was just weirdly staring at the other people weeping and crying at that time.</span> </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Gradually I became very lonely at that desolated portico. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Day by day, the sunshine that used to come across the bamboo-made starry decorated screen appeared increasingly mysterious to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In those sprinkled rays of sunlight I felt the warmth of my grandfather's palm. It was quite strange and illogical to imagine but I was willingly imagining about my grandfather's metamorphosis to sunshine. Searching for my grandfather in the warmth of the morning sunshine - I grew up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div align="center"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnAvKHVja8Z-1b8F9fgUlGlzib8fLYCtClAV0wSX8zQDf7ws_79v7lekzWEygcH8vxOf4bbdI2KTfbJuLBsxO6dQnELA5I_C70Uhira7VoKD1vTxkeWCn7M7Rg6I78KSxQ9UPGSs0E2yH/s1600/chair+page+no+16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnAvKHVja8Z-1b8F9fgUlGlzib8fLYCtClAV0wSX8zQDf7ws_79v7lekzWEygcH8vxOf4bbdI2KTfbJuLBsxO6dQnELA5I_C70Uhira7VoKD1vTxkeWCn7M7Rg6I78KSxQ9UPGSs0E2yH/s320/chair+page+no+16.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="justify" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The elongated bamboo partition with intricate starry designs was weaved by my grandfather. The portico was the universe of my grandfather. Sitting on this very chair my grandfather used to talk about the stars of the evening sky. He told stories of the seven seas. He taught me to look at the milky ways and to identify the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sptarshimandala, </i>the constellation - <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ursa Major</i>. Now, I could see the stars of the sky in these little handmade bamboo-stars. I realized, my grandfather was like the Gods, he could make out stars with his own hand. </span></div></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Today, not only in that portico, but across the universe I can feel the warmth of my grandfather. In the evening I look upward and I see stars made up of bamboo sticks - throughout the sky.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sz4WyKQrPS-JX_4OeOGXSVzjMwXBPdZvGzHGRqNtknFH-SmMBSHX70CxEu6z9CS1sS1l10tajNqn5b4Glts-u256wsL4ZnMC1Vj2eMRdfk7vbuvZKEYnJxpDM9vn5M-xxnf72xmyxWtz/s1600/chair+page+no+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sz4WyKQrPS-JX_4OeOGXSVzjMwXBPdZvGzHGRqNtknFH-SmMBSHX70CxEu6z9CS1sS1l10tajNqn5b4Glts-u256wsL4ZnMC1Vj2eMRdfk7vbuvZKEYnJxpDM9vn5M-xxnf72xmyxWtz/s320/chair+page+no+18.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Several days later, I found this chair lying at a corner of our abandoned cowshed. I cried a lot for the poor condition of the chair. I cried aloud for the chair, but noticeably I did not weep at all for the death of my grandfather. At my arrogant indulgence my father was forced to clean up and replace the chair once again at the same portico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DBVoOu9s6Njpa6pN_x08SBSrKK4cUAhhyO9jyyRZko8lfhr9vitLySXd4u3_4_dsekUQy5gxXPlm8bfP50BcmjowOAHCCxsxYwbbI3-nftf7804smMP1lMjp1wW5iRIEw27UtuILi6ov/s1600/chair+page+no+21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DBVoOu9s6Njpa6pN_x08SBSrKK4cUAhhyO9jyyRZko8lfhr9vitLySXd4u3_4_dsekUQy5gxXPlm8bfP50BcmjowOAHCCxsxYwbbI3-nftf7804smMP1lMjp1wW5iRIEw27UtuILi6ov/s320/chair+page+no+21.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This time the chair was a property of mine - absolutely mine. As if I owned a precious thing which I longed for several births. Now I was contented enough. I felt like an empress when I used to sit on this chair. I could see with my fascinated vision that there was a series of ambassador from different kingdoms sitting at my portico. I put on a dazzling headgear. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gamkharu</i> (precious bangles) were at my wrists, and I was wearing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">muga</i>-silks. A little cat, Pussy accompanied me. </span></div><br />
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<div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBNLZgsNeEUfp_032AkO5g7wRafaiEzpfBcQGVZtu6bUuCHie0AJS88ijwzRumb2-LJUh4R-eTrlEB0rZYt7BTxqmF9LiE-JIwgveNLI6iUrxqylXrTVnbp-TmK0LwSnS98LYbaQQ7bjN/s1600/chair+page+no+22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBNLZgsNeEUfp_032AkO5g7wRafaiEzpfBcQGVZtu6bUuCHie0AJS88ijwzRumb2-LJUh4R-eTrlEB0rZYt7BTxqmF9LiE-JIwgveNLI6iUrxqylXrTVnbp-TmK0LwSnS98LYbaQQ7bjN/s320/chair+page+no+22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Once a boy came to our house for household job. Somehow I didn't like that guy. He pitched a very crooked look at the chair. Being an empress I ordered Pussy and imagined Pussy dragging that evil guy with an iron fetter and making him surrender in my court. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUeX5ErOobaqJCNqITYuUppL4QddUfZV3dSJB5HcNN6WcA7qYp5SnQMkTKCc8uXDobCh2yQA8tw0mc0pn3woSGKY0nzGLd8diLKqHMa09v1zmEKyTOD9Q8Rqhj67Za5dbv20PqhTJVLhCK/s1600/chair+page+no+23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUeX5ErOobaqJCNqITYuUppL4QddUfZV3dSJB5HcNN6WcA7qYp5SnQMkTKCc8uXDobCh2yQA8tw0mc0pn3woSGKY0nzGLd8diLKqHMa09v1zmEKyTOD9Q8Rqhj67Za5dbv20PqhTJVLhCK/s320/chair+page+no+23.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The chair transformed to a sheep in the Mediterranean. Like the tales of Sinbad I went out for my voyages around the continents. Pussy was my most faithful sailor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPUEPOwBaQTPKJgUplJlE0kHYLkshn6ZZoU8agIVIvelAyDQ-9ZkdkAnn8xsl3qXI0nlNWonQzrqPSCehzQUYoSRqWYdS3jU_arrjSqsklvBADYj5bgkHh6__2xHmd9OUdmi5uovIqh83/s1600/chair+page+no+24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPUEPOwBaQTPKJgUplJlE0kHYLkshn6ZZoU8agIVIvelAyDQ-9ZkdkAnn8xsl3qXI0nlNWonQzrqPSCehzQUYoSRqWYdS3jU_arrjSqsklvBADYj5bgkHh6__2xHmd9OUdmi5uovIqh83/s320/chair+page+no+24.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I spent my times playing vehicles on the chair. The chair was my passenger-van where one hundred passengers could ride in. I was the driver and Pussy was the conductor-cum-ticket collector.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Standing up on the chair I felt standing at the highest pick of the world's largest mountain. I witnessed the snowfall at the hillside, witnessed the tidal waves of the ocean. I witnessed a group of people dying in starvation in one corner, and in another corner, I saw my childhood friends Bubu and Pona playing with marbles. This very chair was a place for my afternoon siesta also; I used to sleep on it just like Pussy used to sleep in such a small space.</span></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BoGQxUIV_xG6ob0XH3qsWzRLPLBH1A9vWEzV7T7BTbUyeH-aoS3ZhCDbk1rilAVyJZ5X84NE9hYz3r4bdCAvjwMwxY_vynUovBBAGggMMo1y6uwXHSC-0QGgffJriuTYYiorbWkMXXws/s1600/chair+page+no+26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BoGQxUIV_xG6ob0XH3qsWzRLPLBH1A9vWEzV7T7BTbUyeH-aoS3ZhCDbk1rilAVyJZ5X84NE9hYz3r4bdCAvjwMwxY_vynUovBBAGggMMo1y6uwXHSC-0QGgffJriuTYYiorbWkMXXws/s320/chair+page+no+26.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This, my grandfather's chair had extraordinary qualities. Whenever a person sat here behaved in a strange manner. People changed their characters. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Once Ratan theft a brass vase and sold it at the market. I suspected him; I didn't like that guy from the beginning. My father shouted at him a lot but he was constantly lying. Once my father made him sit at this chair and interrogated. Quite astonishingly, Ratan submitted his crime as soon as he sat on this chair. I realized, no one could ever tell a lie sitting on this chair. This chair was not a joke; it was the chair of the great truths-speaking king Vikramaditya. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Other than Ratan, there were two other men, whom I disliked, sat on this chair. The first man, one day, was sitting on this chair and talking to my father. Ratan, very notoriously put Pussy on his lap and said, "See, what a beautiful cat this is." the man reacted in a strange manner. He started counting the hairs of Pussy one by one. He counted up to fifty, and exactly after the count of the number fifty he threw Pussy to a corner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The second man was sitting here another day. Ratan did the same notorious job; he put Pussy on his lap. The man was very harsh in behavior. He observed Pussy from all four sides, dashed her rudely, making her upside down repetitively. And then he made a knot out of Pussy's legs, ears, and tail and kept her on the ground. Pussy was hurt badly, I felt.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh811CHvsAIJYd8Zys-xABwY-QshqP91T5juPp-iwW-q13qekCnvs547g2XJrOZd_1avdSPv4hWqiL2qGnVs5UOEnYVl8HyZW1ShH1bCYwjkUGFh9TOkmV_80UPWTmiidGu29ywIMQvurbF/s1600/chair+page+no+29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh811CHvsAIJYd8Zys-xABwY-QshqP91T5juPp-iwW-q13qekCnvs547g2XJrOZd_1avdSPv4hWqiL2qGnVs5UOEnYVl8HyZW1ShH1bCYwjkUGFh9TOkmV_80UPWTmiidGu29ywIMQvurbF/s320/chair+page+no+29.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Quite later I came to know that the first man worked at a matchbox factory. His regular job was to count out fifty matchsticks, to put them in a box and then to throw to the next table. That was his regular practice. I doubt if he could count beyond the number fifty. For him Pussy, too, was a matchbox, not a little and cute cat. And what about the second man? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The second man worked at a biscuit factory. The whole day the man was engaged into folding papers and making packets for biscuits. How could one behave indifferent of his practice and habits?</span> </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDugK4Jy3afN5agEog3FQCo-n5KsHSFB90L-HcpSwwHKmSS2EF6zshM0MxL-DDpYRqSVNlp8iTFTHRS7HiZz1Gt1l_NVYGRKdJ0HtXgsqTYeDsKLLTeYchRxo6923D2GViwWeodwEAi6Oe/s1600/chair+page+no+30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDugK4Jy3afN5agEog3FQCo-n5KsHSFB90L-HcpSwwHKmSS2EF6zshM0MxL-DDpYRqSVNlp8iTFTHRS7HiZz1Gt1l_NVYGRKdJ0HtXgsqTYeDsKLLTeYchRxo6923D2GViwWeodwEAi6Oe/s320/chair+page+no+30.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">However, one day our old house made up of timber, bamboo and mud was broken down. Concerning about our future prospects my father built a big concrete house. For the sake of our future, my grandfather had to lose his own future. For our future, the future of my grandfather's chair was snatched. I wept desperately thinking of the chair of our old house, I didn't eat for a couple of days as a sign of protest against my parents. For my arrogant demand the chair got a place with special care at the new portico of our newly built concrete house. But the fact with what I too agreed with was - the old chair was a mere mismatch in the new house. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After a lot of agreement and disagreements the chair was finally decided to remove one day. Oh! Look at Ratan, how happy he was, as if he was the all in all in the house. He never liked the chair at all. At the moment he was dragging out the chair there was an awkward cacophony produced from the friction of the old chair and the ground of the new house. I could hear the cry of the chair, "I won't go, I won't go". </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The omnipotent, mysterious and the most graceful chair - which I thought not a thousand of elephants could displace ever, Ratan, dragged out with ease. He didn't hear the fanatic lament of the chair. Ratan was seemingly a monster in front of me. Duhshasan! The Chair was crying like Draupadi. (I remember how Sarukan used to lament when he played the role of Draupadi at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bhaona</i>, our village performance fair)!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<div align="center"></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCOFGvAsVu1XdNvs-aT6RzzESTvxJYnOM3Lz-bWMYavu_TKJIT28ZPmGPD50Rm3Z9x_M_NN7KNDxTZQZGrbA5ObJHOapLOrVcQasRrUdiZVBNH88i-8wsxqd2WEoR5ZuXFIpJ4e1iFrXr/s1600/chair+page+no+33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqCOFGvAsVu1XdNvs-aT6RzzESTvxJYnOM3Lz-bWMYavu_TKJIT28ZPmGPD50Rm3Z9x_M_NN7KNDxTZQZGrbA5ObJHOapLOrVcQasRrUdiZVBNH88i-8wsxqd2WEoR5ZuXFIpJ4e1iFrXr/s320/chair+page+no+33.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div align="justify"><br />
I, sometimes, control all my anger and forgive all. What was the blunder of that man who worked at a matchbox factory? What the offence the man from the biscuit factory committed? just like my grandfather made out his own universe - within the elongated portico making a partition full of starry designs with the fine bamboo sticks - they also, perhaps, confined their own universes within a matchbox or a biscuit packet!</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZGc34rPU7vYPK8RMVsUQYICOhk1SJGzAqSvFPui2w3qbb6KZdm68d1BgMoe22EaUfcjz7Yc6fOBbrkPe-Cd7fubwj4fEEufw5bVJ-pU2doLyKnahxthVGG7oEfPZfVc3LJToRhy2r5VI/s1600/chair+page+no+35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZGc34rPU7vYPK8RMVsUQYICOhk1SJGzAqSvFPui2w3qbb6KZdm68d1BgMoe22EaUfcjz7Yc6fOBbrkPe-Cd7fubwj4fEEufw5bVJ-pU2doLyKnahxthVGG7oEfPZfVc3LJToRhy2r5VI/s320/chair+page+no+35.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now-a-days we stay in the new house. New house. Big house. Made up of concrete: sand, iron rods, gravel and cement. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There are massive windows with equipped glasses. They pass sunshine sufficiently. But that bamboo screen with starry designs made by my grandfather is not there. My grandfather was among the Gods. He made stars. He brought the sky down and according to his own requirements restructured a tiny adorable sky of his own. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father could make thousand of concrete houses, but, couldn't make that sky. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Anyway, have anyone of you seen the monster named Ratan? He might drag this chair up to here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he comes to my sight, I’ll grind his head in my grandfather's betel-nut grinder and chew him up. </span></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJash_8vRsigFYHakn8u4Qc7rShiQ4Wb6diFjTkl65aPNC66LT_LNzliOpnf3W-GNjPSA_jLuZIgNUtd2x8za-daKcQEFGRJsbl28WfQNmNxUVsgQATPWRRg2_Wc0r8asSRw6fIByWElWx/s1600/cover+front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJash_8vRsigFYHakn8u4Qc7rShiQ4Wb6diFjTkl65aPNC66LT_LNzliOpnf3W-GNjPSA_jLuZIgNUtd2x8za-daKcQEFGRJsbl28WfQNmNxUVsgQATPWRRg2_Wc0r8asSRw6fIByWElWx/s320/cover+front.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front cover of the book in Assamese</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLNDvHJiLw07Xqfo2x-0Ogn3nB3y8cE1wRn0xZSH9Bkc2sDQxxhIinU3PqWsRSjmFVBGrrWR9zmZdIDYy0SHiiVt55YZRDnrcNTr8AF9z26JveT1PInVfe7mm6Wx3ctkfKsoOW8rAy2Gh/s1600/cover+back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLNDvHJiLw07Xqfo2x-0Ogn3nB3y8cE1wRn0xZSH9Bkc2sDQxxhIinU3PqWsRSjmFVBGrrWR9zmZdIDYy0SHiiVt55YZRDnrcNTr8AF9z26JveT1PInVfe7mm6Wx3ctkfKsoOW8rAy2Gh/s320/cover+back.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back Cover of the book in Assamese</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9THiyjHehlt5Q7dF9qOQ_v-xjNvqnltMlAe14QxyVnPXDGcpwmJraRrG26Z5SGHfl6jHNM_5dVGrKK5D8DzrJ5caRo9vrrlKH3Pl5h94Iq-BIXqwFOqURc90x0PSWNSNPsZinvnf_hKfa/s1600/P1130722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9THiyjHehlt5Q7dF9qOQ_v-xjNvqnltMlAe14QxyVnPXDGcpwmJraRrG26Z5SGHfl6jHNM_5dVGrKK5D8DzrJ5caRo9vrrlKH3Pl5h94Iq-BIXqwFOqURc90x0PSWNSNPsZinvnf_hKfa/s320/P1130722.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three of the Performers at Nepal examining the spectator's gathering site</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOc5uxFTH7z0dOt0kYneNp8lAmscgUfkNXQP2i_a0XkcBAOba6-OPEFbxqQ1qWpUjljc370dMaC7_mZW98jI1F7fg7E_M8ScLQLRX7BtIBLAS842qOl9j3xZPc7MUGWEHs7_s1op6MaF6/s1600/ggg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOc5uxFTH7z0dOt0kYneNp8lAmscgUfkNXQP2i_a0XkcBAOba6-OPEFbxqQ1qWpUjljc370dMaC7_mZW98jI1F7fg7E_M8ScLQLRX7BtIBLAS842qOl9j3xZPc7MUGWEHs7_s1op6MaF6/s320/ggg.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Missing pages</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here is a Glimpse of the On-Stage Debate after the performance on the same text:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/jafUnWkdjKQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-89019286591837294982011-02-28T23:27:00.000-08:002011-02-28T23:29:22.813-08:00all about public<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3uboQCgosvWLM_EMPSLZI7f1Rvk2p23Fy_e24ZpYdfgpgdsLWIzGPKJ2TuAOECvs20r9PzVPavscEGJwq6wdZtR5kdXESI8roQNHJdcEcL6jxe00QZnhqxNEpRG0U8erqEIk27fNfaeC/s1600/vip+public+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3uboQCgosvWLM_EMPSLZI7f1Rvk2p23Fy_e24ZpYdfgpgdsLWIzGPKJ2TuAOECvs20r9PzVPavscEGJwq6wdZtR5kdXESI8roQNHJdcEcL6jxe00QZnhqxNEpRG0U8erqEIk27fNfaeC/s320/vip+public+copy.JPG" width="204" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Here are some random drawings from Kankhowa's Notebook: on and around the idea of PUBLIC and PUBLIC art. Some of them are subversive cartoons, some are nonsense scribbling. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The definition of Public Art is ambiguous since sometimes it is a genre, sometimes an inclination and sometimes an subversive effort in the disciplinary paradigms. "</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The term <b>public art</b> properly refers to works of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art" title="Art"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">art</span></a> in any <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Media_%28arts%29" title="Media (arts)"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">media</span></a> that has been planned and executed with the specific intention of being sited or staged in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_domain_%28land%29" title="Public domain (land)"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">physical public domain</span></a>, usually outside and accessible to all."(Wikipedia). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This definition raises three distinctive issues around the Public art:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1. It has specific intentions,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2. It is sited or staged in the public domain,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3. It is accessible to all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The matter of being <i>intentional</i> makes it more political. At the same time it addresses the essential questions of 'purpose' or 'aim' of the Art with capital A. Second level of questions emerge around the mapping of public domain itself. Is not the gallery space a public space as well? The third point, of being "accessible to all" makes a more autocratic statement in itself. It means art as a whole were never accessible to all, and more profoundly were never meant to be so. In those terms we remember Gary Tartakov:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What is important for the bourgeois aesthetic is that its object be rare and that only the most powerful have access to them. That is, that is fixes upon the art we cannot have or effect. Indeed its major value, even beyond its supposed esthetic power, is its rarity……….not only can the majority not own it, they cannot even understand why it is valuable or that it is valuable”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Gary Tartakov,</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Dalits, Art and the Imagery of Everyday Life”</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">, (Art and Activism in India- Tulika Books, New Delhi)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Here is another example of an innovative BHELAGHAR, from Chotea a place 12 Kilometers from Biswanath Chariali, where a two storied house with bamboo and hay was made. The house was burn down to ashes after having a grand feast on the sankranti eve. Here is an artist to explore the medium little more in the time of Bhogali Bihu (the Magh Sankranti, harvesting festival Festival of assam). Photos are captured by Pranjal Baruti, field visited by Kapil Bora, Snehankar Chakraborty and Rupak Kar. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1JXFaY2K_B1kRBVyptNhS4jNzP-Nlq12OPXMJrRhF1vK266buMEMsTpoBq3p5OhRrP1lgOcHGa_sIw1KPbJYvvh0yvQKyKLmrbwmq0nGEYGP0sS4_u0Ew2q8qj2MVpfrAqi0TondE9nN/s1600/01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1JXFaY2K_B1kRBVyptNhS4jNzP-Nlq12OPXMJrRhF1vK266buMEMsTpoBq3p5OhRrP1lgOcHGa_sIw1KPbJYvvh0yvQKyKLmrbwmq0nGEYGP0sS4_u0Ew2q8qj2MVpfrAqi0TondE9nN/s320/01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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from Facebook Disposable House Group post:<br />
<span data-jsid="text">At present I am looking at some art work made up of hey-stacks and bamboo sticks (not in Bronze or Fiber glass), located at a paddy field after the harvesting is over (not in Indian Art Summit Premise), where the artist even denies to put his tag (no printed catalog, no budding art-writers working in a R&D department for that). I might be a romantic but no, I am not a modernist or a revivalist. I am not a promoter of folk art and craft. I am not an NGO as well.</span> <br />
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</div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-16396067013316826982011-02-12T06:18:00.000-08:002011-02-12T06:27:06.130-08:00BHELAGHAR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">1</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqD4da9_VYASVjdcPRlohDD6Xuhyphenhyphen23X0PTVBifdLS-INPcO1tO-xN75QkcvgRNLk1hTrj11UsoC7fr_6olXqMD_imXUazd5IhurWh3QBQ8cIGjqFSmY2223yAGptxVcRBtLYGNIAdhcPaL/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqD4da9_VYASVjdcPRlohDD6Xuhyphenhyphen23X0PTVBifdLS-INPcO1tO-xN75QkcvgRNLk1hTrj11UsoC7fr_6olXqMD_imXUazd5IhurWh3QBQ8cIGjqFSmY2223yAGptxVcRBtLYGNIAdhcPaL/s320/DSC_0006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As I proposed, I want to build a house, reside/dwell inside it and then make a procession with it and finally want to burn it down. Now there is a ritual in Assam, that follows almost similar activities. It is called Magh Bihu or Bhogali Bihu, a winter harvesting festival, when the folks make out a house (known as Bhelaghar), stay one night, have a grand feast and in the very next morning they burn it down. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Initially when I conceived this idea of disposable house, I didn't keep in mind about the bhelaghar – with what lot of my childhood memories are attached. It only in the time of conversation with the jury I suddenly remembered Bhelaghar. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dwijen Mahanta, a theatre practitioner and photographer collected some photographs for us in Biswanath Chariali. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5xS7Q1xKsghsQS1b_VnLqjkHLvf0YYYdD9l9f-iJTpVmfaV5FnRM31CGCWs-wXJSgIlYtdsU-fDfk3qWyEjVTdq01-C3pE2CQolXVitaEooCt4cw4qFlbFjRfalGJSllJtDo2ikIEWJt/s320/bhelaghar+in+Biswanath+Chariali+1.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Making of Bhelaghar, photographs were taken on 12 Jan 2011, from Bhir Gaon and Bamgaon, Biswanath Chariali, Assam, by Dwijen Mahanta</span></div></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now what I propose is a project of Art, and what they do is a ritual or tradition. Here grows a distinction between US and THEM, ART and RITUAL and to extend the line a distinction between Art and Public. </span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Here I would not extend the discussion in this blog. I leave it open for discussion, and may be some other day we would open up the same discussion again. Here let us look at the documented photographs and have an idea about the Bhelaghar.</span><br />
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<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>2 </b></span></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Other than Dwijen Mahanta, I talked to Kavita Saharia who already put a blog on bhelaghar and extensively also on the Magh bihu. Here I present some nice visuals from her collection with her permission.</span><br />
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<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> see:</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/02/bhelagharin-small-assamese-village.html%20%20%20%20%20http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/02/mejibhogali-bihu.html%20%20%20%20http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/01/bhogali-bihu-of-assamuruka-bhoj-and.html">http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/02/bhelagharin-small-assamese-village.html </a></span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/02/mejibhogali-bihu.html">http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/02/mejibhogali-bihu.html </a> </span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/01/bhogali-bihu-of-assamuruka-bhoj-and.html">http://www.kavitasaharia-myroom.com/2010/01/bhogali-bihu-of-assamuruka-bhoj-and.html </a></span> </span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
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<blockquote align="justify"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Kavita writes: “On the eve of Sankranti(URUKA) a special temporary makeshift cottage or a small house like structure called Bhelaghar is made .This structure is mainly built by the men folk using Bamboo,hay,wood -pieces .After preparing and enjoying a feast inside the bhelaghar,men spend the night there and in the early hours of the next morning lit the bhelaghar down. Its ashes are then spread to the fields and the trees to bring luck for a better harvesting in future.”</span></blockquote><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Usually it is a small hut like structure but for the last two years youths of MISAKHOLAHAAT a village 5-6 kms away from our village have started a trend of making it in a grand way." Here are some amazing visuals from a particular Bhelaghare making:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Last year they made a bhelaghar nearly 40 ft high consisting five floors and because of its uniqueness instead of burning it down the next morning it was retained for a week as the village saw many visitors from the nearby villages and town.This year encouraged by the enthusiasm of the spectators last year the makers of this bhelaghar added another floor which made it approx 44ft high .And if it was not enough they made another small bhelaghar right behind this and attached both the ghars by a bamboo bridge.On asking the villagers told us that for the vertical post they used Tamul tree(betelnut tree) and for the horizontal post i.e. the floor they used Bamboo.The post were tied together by the Tongal(a rope made with the thin shreds of bamboo) and plastic strings too were used to make the structure stronger. The total expenditure was nearly 5000Rs. and it took them more than two weeks to make it.”</span><br />
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<m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
<div align="center"><b>3</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Now here is a poem from Siddhartha Sankar Kalita on Bhelaghar:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLVmLKq64xuABb9uJRFLW6v4AeoX2Gh2m7StKpb9Cm6mLx104k5LhAdo8uxYvFZLxsYHKKJdDDEf7iCxb9No90-fZ7TR1oeztzEtPfjtMwa-Cg9YkkJGnWy6OJZORF2SxUiZopAG4C4C9/s1600/bhelaghar+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLVmLKq64xuABb9uJRFLW6v4AeoX2Gh2m7StKpb9Cm6mLx104k5LhAdo8uxYvFZLxsYHKKJdDDEf7iCxb9No90-fZ7TR1oeztzEtPfjtMwa-Cg9YkkJGnWy6OJZORF2SxUiZopAG4C4C9/s640/bhelaghar+1.jpg" width="161" /></a></div><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%; text-transform: uppercase;">bhelaghar</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Siddhartha Sankar Kalita</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On the eve of <i>Magh Sankranti</i> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We used to make the Bhelaghar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We made a structure of beams with unripe bamboo</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and putting the hay into it,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">when the harvesting is over,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">we challenged each other on our skills in making a house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">...and the grand feast was in the evening.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A little prayer was on our palms in the next morning.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and then </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">fire!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A grand fire event were happening,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The house was burnt down in no time,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The craft of our immature hands were disposed</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When we were grown ups</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">many colorful thoughts </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">started building a house in ourselves.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And yeah! Juvenile was there to put fire to it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We were burnt, we were hurt,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">still the flamboyant thoughts started building </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">a house inside.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A thought could generate another one in itself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hence, even after the destructions</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">we thought of the house a permanent one, a concrete one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was another story of </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Bhelaghar only</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">made with our unripe hands...</span></div><br />
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</div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-1742308224369984712011-01-30T23:27:00.000-08:002011-01-30T23:27:47.112-08:00Little Boxes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/xhqiPtw5464?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="MsoNormal">1</div><div class="MsoNormal">Animation: Disposable House 1 (Little Boxes)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Animation by: Samudra Kajal Saikia</div><div class="MsoNormal">Done on: 25<sup>th</sup> January 2011</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While working and researching on the theme: The Imagery of House in Individual and Collective Memories, the song “little Boxes” inevitably came to our mind.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><blockquote><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The profundity of the satire is attested by a professor at the University of Miami,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">"I've been lecturing my classes about middle-class conformity for a whole semester. Here's a song that says it all in 1½ minutes."</span></span></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Earlier we have used the song in an earlier performance of Kankhowa: GHAR KATHA, Chapter One, in the 75<sup>th</sup> anniversary celebration of Baroda Ameteur Dramatic Club, 28<sup>th</sup> August 2010. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQRCII7rBoGJuLxP09HHSlwm9YqE6eQ6Z4oKOFHvGCQwnpsyPY04GqHjDZpro7kyt-eW7JcIstgqB7pa0fFuN72pvq119XfaRhBTYreCgkyvW2k2xtGcqwSrnt-f6VJyJDOMuZBkZDL3u/s1600/46683_458188886083_588111083_6804692_5480661_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQRCII7rBoGJuLxP09HHSlwm9YqE6eQ6Z4oKOFHvGCQwnpsyPY04GqHjDZpro7kyt-eW7JcIstgqB7pa0fFuN72pvq119XfaRhBTYreCgkyvW2k2xtGcqwSrnt-f6VJyJDOMuZBkZDL3u/s320/46683_458188886083_588111083_6804692_5480661_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MDc5gCGOFRknYDpGp2RN4gngZAlU4ib9xk3uNlN6520Wn4x9vgqBlx4QILsELxzX5FvUv6rrchpoLnexXzHVfvQgXVbN7B8912gzLBc_8h197RTCN1aORIZF7hiN8MoEXETb8DIntcUK/s1600/46683_458188896083_588111083_6804693_4775754_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MDc5gCGOFRknYDpGp2RN4gngZAlU4ib9xk3uNlN6520Wn4x9vgqBlx4QILsELxzX5FvUv6rrchpoLnexXzHVfvQgXVbN7B8912gzLBc_8h197RTCN1aORIZF7hiN8MoEXETb8DIntcUK/s1600/46683_458188896083_588111083_6804693_4775754_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The performance was designed into seven different sectors. The Prologue takes place at the outside of the auditorium of Shreyas High School, Manjalpur, Baroda. The first Sector: The Narcissist Actor, takes place at the threshold of the auditorium. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_LV6DiVa49dQqSHXsfnIDEWig213dkFfPNBnbvzIZqklyK2-eSFjgL5zPt3Ec1B5NWSx2V4TryZz7c61YjE_39rE4KEjG506oGwUHBRGiDFg3ajg1EP5cQLN3xYMEPkbZE0MTn_1sYhYI/s1600/compressed+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_LV6DiVa49dQqSHXsfnIDEWig213dkFfPNBnbvzIZqklyK2-eSFjgL5zPt3Ec1B5NWSx2V4TryZz7c61YjE_39rE4KEjG506oGwUHBRGiDFg3ajg1EP5cQLN3xYMEPkbZE0MTn_1sYhYI/s320/compressed+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As the performers and the spectators enter into the main hall, after breaking down a “wall”, the second sector: Little Boxes takes place. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is an installation with little box like houses made up of origami and a mosquito net lit up with translucent light. Two performers are inside the net with hanging origami houses and a singer sings a country song once popularized by Pete Seeger: “little boxes made of ticky tacky”…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Simultaneously two other performers drags, pulls and pushes a cluster of card-board houses towards the stage through the hall. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDBozWHLpql0iAxoh-xVwGVr-L5utvJE4nRalimxZqxj07DnB_T_yoq9J4ig6AoXD6bbzJpmVfZsLrmdNm8KMSmSGk3PEFZ9QlJ_xQ-BGXLF2s06V22G1bYu2gWMgWE_QzYlGXiqKM6KN/s1600/47401_458189856083_588111083_6804720_8024711_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDBozWHLpql0iAxoh-xVwGVr-L5utvJE4nRalimxZqxj07DnB_T_yoq9J4ig6AoXD6bbzJpmVfZsLrmdNm8KMSmSGk3PEFZ9QlJ_xQ-BGXLF2s06V22G1bYu2gWMgWE_QzYlGXiqKM6KN/s320/47401_458189856083_588111083_6804720_8024711_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Performers of this part of performance:</div><div class="MsoNormal">Udita Bhattacharya, St. Stephens College, University of Delhi </div><div class="MsoNormal">Diya Sen and Thomas, Faculty of Arts, M S University</div><div class="MsoNormal">Abhimanyu Mishra, Ahmadabad</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sebastien Merges, Esban, France</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/EexdampaMlk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">"<b>Little Boxes</b>" is a song written by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malvina_Reynolds" title="Malvina Reynolds">Malvina Reynolds</a> in 1962, which became a hit for her friend <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pete_Seeger" title="Pete Seeger">Pete Seeger</a> in 1963. The song is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Political_satire" title="Political satire">political satire</a> about the development of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suburbia" title="Suburbia">suburbia</a> and associated <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conformist" title="Conformist">conformist</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle-class" title="Middle-class">middle-class</a> attitudes. It refers to suburban tract housing as "little boxes" of different colors "all made out of ticky-tacky", and which "all look just the same." "Ticky-tacky" is a reference to the shoddy material used in the construction of housing of that time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Pete Seeger's rendition of the song is known internationally, and reached number 70 in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billboard_Hot_100" title="Billboard Hot 100">Billboard Hot 100</a>; Seeger was a friend of Reynolds, also a political activist, and like many others in the 1960s he used folk songs as a medium for protest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">(see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Boxes">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Boxes</a>)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="MsoNormal">Watch Pete Peeger in this link:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/La21jYGIQ8k?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=La21jYGIQ8k"><br />
</a> </div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7633423352793266003.post-55386017295895428832011-01-18T03:40:00.000-08:002011-01-29T04:44:55.153-08:00FICA is pleased to announce the recipient of Public Art Grant 2010 Samudra Kajal Saikia – "Apna hi Ghar Samjho: Mobilising the House"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Foundation for Indian Contemporary Art is pleased to announce the recipient of the Public Art Grant 2010, Samudra Kajal Saikia. The grant will support Saikia’s proposed project titled “Apna hi Ghar Samjho: Mobilizing the House”, a performance-based mobile public art project, which will finally be located/performed in Guwahati, Assam, in September 2011. This project is a part of a larger multimedia-performance initiative by Saikia on the “Imagery of Ghar”. The Public Art Grant 2010 jury consisted of Vivan Sundaram, Ravi Agarwal and Jeebesh Bagchi.<br />
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Through the act of ‘construction’ and ‘procession’ of a Ghar (house/home) the project will primarily set up a dialogue with the local public and bring together a community of artists to deliberate upon the idea of Ghar, as not only a physical entity but also as emotional, sentimental and romantic constructions within each individual. The performance/procession will address the idea of dislocation and exile, a very prevalent contemporary phenomenon, by literally removing the Ghar from its initial location and taking it on the road - almost like a “cultural procession”.<br />
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The project seeks to deal with critical issues related to performer-spectator relationships, and the consequent paradigm shift that occurs with changed contexts where these relationships are played out. To Saikia, this problem of “shifting spaces” is one that is a part of contemporary reality. What happens to a rural spectator when s/he enters to an urban auditorium? What happens to a performer while entering an arena of visual art practice? How do these shifts - language shift, formal shift, paradigm shift – operate/affect the role of an actor and the spectator? How long does one remain an outsider or alien to a comparatively new art practice and through which process does s/he become an insider? Or, on the other hand, at what a juncture does an insider start feeling alienated? Through this experimental project, Saikia will explore the homogenising circumstances that allows for the exchange to experiences between the performer and the spectator, while addressing this continuous inside-outside conundrum.<br />
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Samudra Kajal Saikia is a performer, writer and art historian, who has been involved in several theatrical performances with amateur artists/performers since his graduate days. Saikia completed his BA in Art History from Kalabhavan, Santiniketan in 2005 and MA in Art History from Faculty of Fine Arts, M.S. University of Baroda in 2007. As a writer focused on cultural criticism, he has contributed to several North-East Indian publications since 1995. Saikia has had brief stints as researcher at NID-Ahmedabad and as visiting faculty at Delhi College of Art, and is now fully engaged in his work as Founder-Creative Director of Kathputhlee Animation Studio, New Delhi in which he started working in 2007. Through the initiative of “Kankhowa – working with interfaces”, a national performance-cum-research group, Saikia has developed and works with a theatrical form termed ‘The Disposable Theatre’, which comes from a multi-disciplinary paradigm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">For further information about FICA and its programmes visit <a href="http://ficart.us1.list-manage.com/track/click?u=ef7a452d522a2d126761d6701&id=50c1f728cf&e=2d9874e5d4" target="_blank"><span style="color: dimgrey;">www.ficart.org</span></a>.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtvKSa3byQOkjVeOkQucQ7_XEqTbwIAcN3Xp86BxH8sPWp1bS3vMhzKRlyVPXUnIc8FGHJ-95-Z5QUGBnHAYCnMKO8zJWPzU8K2NeJrkKKNSXkZmssJsfLgrFdqCZ4bE-JuqOvV10jDIW/s1600/fica+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtvKSa3byQOkjVeOkQucQ7_XEqTbwIAcN3Xp86BxH8sPWp1bS3vMhzKRlyVPXUnIc8FGHJ-95-Z5QUGBnHAYCnMKO8zJWPzU8K2NeJrkKKNSXkZmssJsfLgrFdqCZ4bE-JuqOvV10jDIW/s320/fica+photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chairs: The Private and the Public, Kalabhavan, Santiniketan, March 2008.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: dimgrey; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">FOUNDATION FOR INDIAN CONTEMPORARY ART<br />
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</div></div>Samudra Kajal Saikiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17311603159801405779noreply@blogger.com0