Lounge
‘Karvat’: Bhasha Chakrabarti uses quilt as a landscape for stories of the body
Summary
In her new show, Bhasha Chakrabarti examines the connections between textiles and memories of the body
Bhasha Chakrabarti’s images conceal and reveal at the same time. In Karvat—The Turn (Night), at first you can see a heap of wrinkled quilts. But as you go closer, you perceive a body cocooned within, with its feet peeping out. There is a sense of intimacy—even sensuousness—to the visual created by the artist this year with oil on linen, natural pigments, used clothing, fabric and fibreglass. This feeling, perhaps, would not have been as strong if the entire body had been exposed to the viewer.
In another part of the exhibition space, pieces of found furniture have been transformed into musical sculptures. Titled, Ajaibghar series, the act of pulling and pushing at a cabinet or almirah, reveals paintings and traces of Hindustani music from within. The Ajaibghar series is being shown for the first time at Experimenter Colaba as part of Chakrabarti’s exhibition, Karvat, which is her first solo in this Mumbai space. The show is on view till 20 December.
“My practice is generally about exposure in a lot of ways. Some of the pieces that I do are explicit, revealing the whole body," says the artist, who is based in New Haven, US. “In this set of works, however, bodies are covered with only a partial view. It is interesting to me, the way a covered body can feel more exposed while the exposed body can feel more opaque in some ways." Textiles play a huge role in Chakrabarti’s practice, and the artist calls herself primarily a “quiltmaker".
Also read: Weekly planner: 5 events to check for a creative boost
According to the gallery note, she uses textiles in multiple and synchronous forms: as a support and a subject matter in painting, as a wrapping and a surrogate for skin,and as a metaphorical container for human entanglements throughout histories of oppression and liberation. “Our bodies are in constant contact with fabric. Thus, it ends up holding and storing information about us, our bodies, relationships, where we stand in the world, and even the manner in which things are made and used," elaborates Chakrabarti.
The exhibition draws inspiration from Begum Jaan’s zenana as mentioned in Ismat Chughtai’s story, Lihaaf. “...where two women explore desire in the shadows, comfort, and/or safety of the quilt. The quilt in Lihaaf, like in Chakrabarti’s practice over the years, becomes a cover for the bareness of bodies and a site of self-determination and pleasure," writes curator-writer Mario D’Souza in the essay accompanying the exhibition.
This is not the only time that Chakrabarti has referred to Ismat Chughtai’s story in her work. The first ever work that she showed with Experimenter at the 2020 India Art Fair was called A Study of Limbs and Lihaaf (2020). That formed an early study for some of the paintings in this show. The connection between Lihaaf and Chakrabarti goes back to the latter’s teenage years. She was 16 when she first read the story. “I was grappling with sexuality and the narrative of queerness. Lihaaf really resonated with me. I liked the way the story is ambiguous and ambivalent about sexuality, and does not make a moral judgement either way," she adds. The dualities of meaning in the story are reflected in Karvat, which looks at the material and metaphorical notion of turning from one side to another. “Ideas being uncomfortable, tossing and turning, are something that I am really interested in," she explains.
There is always a personal element to Chakrabarti’s works—she borrows fabric from friends, family, and former lovers. She calls this element of collaboration one of the biggest pleasures of being an artist. “My work is not only about friendship, but also arises out of friendships—it is made through and with this camaraderie," adds Chakrabarti. For instance, the music sculptures have emerged from the Ekard Residency in the Netherlands that she did this year with a friend, Hania Luthufi, a Hindustani classical musician. While Chakrabarti worked on the boxes, Luthufi composed the soundscape.
Also read: Art Mumbai 2024: A walk amid sculptures to get viewers thinking
Both were clear that whenever these would be ready, the pieces would be displayed in a bright red room. “Chakrabarti lets the interior spaces, particularly the zenana of the Nawab’s house (Begum Jaan’s domain) spill into the exhibition space. Reimagined as a red room à la Matisse, she loads this milieu with a diversity of references," writes D’Souza. “The Venetian red, for example, comes from hematite and was used across history from the primal 17,000-year-old cave paintings of Lascaux to the murals of Pompeii… or more directly to the Deccani Ragamala paintings in the Indian Museum in Calcutta that she reinterprets in her Ajaibghar series."
The decision to interpret the 10 Ragamala paintings stemmed from shared observations of Luthufi and Chakrabarti that classical art sometimes felt a little distant and inaccessible. Her work is inspired by the that of artists like Kara Walker who look at gender dynamics. She carries that ethos forward in Ajaibhar. The idea of using domestic furniture was intentional, to bring in the classical form of Ragamala into the everyday. “Fine art, earlier, made a great effort to distance itself from domestic spaces, often considered feminine and not so serious spaces. The gestures of the nayika, associated with a particular raga, are repeated in paintings. For instance, a woman holding on to a branch of a tree can be seen in nearly every work based on todi ragini. The figure becomes more of a symbol and less of a woman. We wanted to repeat the movements and gestures within everyday situations, and look at ways in which feminine movements can give way to larger wondrous practices," she says.
D’Souza finds it interesting that each box opens up to the sky—much like the interpretation in the Ragamala—but here, they suggest freedom with its possibilities. “All these images also show the protagonist holding onto herself, another body, or an object — a fleshy grip that extends into a wanton desire," he writes.
Also read: What to watch this week: ‘Here’, ‘Vijay 69’ and more
