(In TOI Sunday, September 20)
Once upon a time if you needed something ironed, you could send it down to the streetcorner istriwala and have it back within minutes, warm and smelling vaguely of charcoal and camphor. This was a comfort during the monsoon, when clothes never really dried properly and the general atmosphere of dank sank like a cloud over the house. Today, the streetcorners are more likely to house a PCO or a fast food delivery kitchen, many of the istriwalas having bloomed into full-scale laundries/dry cleaners or moved to a more heavily populated area with a guaranteed customer base. The service is still available, but many who provide it also provide home-delivery and take rather longer to finish the job. One reason for this – apart from the fact that stylish non-iron clothing is so easily available in chain stores and the number of laundries with storefronts and thus greater respectability and accessibility have increased – is the affordability and availability of irons that can help even the busiest executive do the job at home. And yes, these can even be bought over the Internet, with many discounts and special offers, making it all a win-win situation.
A basic household small appliance, an iron comes with various factors that any buyer will need to check on. Many people visiting the United States bring back an iron with all the bells and whistles that a Na’avi (if they ever wore clothes that needed ironing, that is) may have dreamed up, and then find that the wattage is not right and a transformer is needed. And wattage plays a starring role in the price point too, since the higher the watts, the hotter the iron can get, thus the easier and quicker the ironing will be. And, with each bell or whistle attached, the price goes up. Essentially, an iron is best if it can give you, the ironer, steam, an easy-to-fill water reservoir, a non-stick soleplate (the bottom of the iron, which actually touches the fabric), variable heat/fabric settings and other optional features, like automatic switch-off, a light/sound indicator that flashes or beeps to say the iron is ready for use, et al. Of course, the warranty of the gadget must be checked and, the less friendly the salesperson involved in the transaction, the more difficult it will be to get any kind of post-sales service for it.
Ironing is a necessary chore, but is based on science. The heat generated serves to loosen the chemical bonds between long-chain polymer molecules in fabric, while the weight of the appliance stretches and straightens them, thus making the cloth flat and smooth as it cools. Sometimes the molecules need to be nudged apart by water, which is where a steam iron comes in handy, best for cottons, linens and pure silks. Synthetic materials have a lower melting point, which is why they smell when ironed and may cringe away from the heat by shrivelling up – something everyone who has ironed anything made of polyester or nylon will know. Ironing also can be used to dry clothing and kill some small bug-eggs or germs, but is not a good way to straighten hair, even though the gadget that does that is also called an ‘iron’.
The market has dry irons and the more popular steam/spray irons on offer, with a few travel irons also available. The last will be small, compact and usually not use steam, making it easy to pack and take through airport customs without trouble, unlike the average knuckleduster or set of batteries. Most commonly seen in department stores, be it Hypercity or Big Bazaar or any other, or in electronics outlets like Croma, Kings, Vijay Sales or Kohinoor, to name just a couple, they come in a bewildering range of options, from colour to capacity, brand, service record and so much more. Some of the most commonly seen include – from Black & Decker: steam iron X775 ( 1,918), X1015 auto shut-off steam iron ( 2,961), X1015 auto shut-off steam iron ( 2,961), X1060 1900 W cordless iron ( 3,487); from Panasonic: NI-S200TS steam iron ( 1,649), NI-W410TS steam iron ( 2,859), NI-S500TS steam iron ( 2,089); from Philips: 3300 series steam iron ( 4,195.00), 2500 series steam iron, dripstop ( 2,995.00), Azur steam iron ( 5,295.00), travel iron ( 1,795.00, steam boost), 1700 series steam iron ( 3,095.00); from Morphy Richards: Astra: (750 watts, 545), Senora (1000 watts, 599), Orbit travel iron ( 1795), Comfigrip Precise Control ( 3995), Comfi-grip Pro ( 2995) and other like the Anjali Ecopress ( 585), Magic Sleek dry iron ( 470), Bajaj non-stick iron ( 890), Kenstar dry iron ( 450), Maharaja Whiteline steam iron with ceramic coating ( 889), the funky Birla Lifestyle BEL-9023 cordless iron ( 1,615) and the Mini travel iron ( 449). There are too many to list completely, but read the fine print, choose your colour and get set to press!
How to iron:
• Use an ironing board.
• Check instructions on the garment tag and adjust iron settings.
• Use high heat for cotton and linen, medium for cotton blends and wool and low for nylon, polyester and other synthetics. Good pure silks can be steam ironed, but check on a small inside corner first.
• Make sure the steam iron reservoir is not empty.
• Stretch the garment flat on the ironing board to save some effort.
• Never leave the iron on and flat on your clothes – not unless you want some interesting burn effects!
• A drop of perfume in the reservoir water can make your clothes smell better, but make sure to clean the iron properly.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Book review
(TOI Crest, Saturday, September 19)
ROOM by Emma Donoghue
Sometimes all it takes is a little imagination to make something better than it is. Add a few real-life ingredients, stir in a little helping of ‘what-if’, let it simmer into a nightmare and it is lifted beyond the realm of the mundane into an award-winner, or a potential one. Room is a little like that. On the longlist for the Man Booker Prize 2010, it acts as a kind of literary sledgehammer to bring home the nasty realism of events that have been unfolding the world over – the captivity of young women for many years by some man who could be a stranger, could be a father, but is, almost always, a twisted psyche. There was the Josef Fritzl in Austria, who imprisoned his daughter Elizabeth for 24 years, raped and physically abused her, fathering eight children, one miscarried, one murdered by neglect of illness. Then there was Jaycee Lee Dugard of California, missing for 18 years, held in a small tent in a backyard, with two children from her captor. Lydia Gouardo was locked up by her legal (but not biological) father for 28 years and had six children with him. In Mumbai, two girls were rescued last year after ten years of abuse by their businessman father. Many more such horror stories have been unearthed each week, some even beyond the limits of a sane imagination.
Emma Donoghue taps into this nightmarish vein in Room. In some ways, the writing and the story are simplistic and naïve, without the flavour of genuine emotion or any kind of sophistication of narration. But in that itself there is a chilling feeling of things that should never happen. The matter-of-fact honesty of the child’s telling of the tale gives it more impact than it would have if told in the voice of an adult. The five year old Jack sees the world as he knows it, as he was born into it, not comprehending that it was a captive existence that violated all laws and norms of a ‘civilised’ life in a modern world. And he speaks of it in the same way, knowing only that life, but having to accept that it was not, in some way, what life is and should be.
The story begins with an everyday, as Jack knows it, but for one special thing: he is five. It will soon become an eventful day, since this is the day that Jack will escape from the only space he knows, his small world, Room. For him, Room is home, with Wardrobe, Bed, Rug, Thermostat, Rocker, Kit, Table, Shelf and more. They are all old friends, the beings he is growing up with. He has to hide in Wardrobe when Old Nick comes in. And when Old Nick is gone, Jack can come out and be with his mother, snuggled against her warmth, seeing the bad marks on her neck…And then one night he has to be dead. Not real dead, but pretend dead, made cold with water and rolled up in Rug, so that Old Nick will take him out in his truck and he, Jack, can run away and tell Police to rescue Ma, his mother, who has two names but he can’t remember what they are since they were in the paper that Old Nick took away during the Great Escape. It works, with a few mishaps. Jack and his mother are saved from their cell, taken to a medical facility for help. There, more truths emerge. The story comes together when, with a chilling honesty, Jack says that Old Nick hurt him “two times”. A collective breath is held – by the doctor, by Ma, by the reader – and then released with “When I was doing the Great Escape he dropped me in the truck and also on the trees, the second was the hurtest.”
It has been seven years of captivity for Ma. She was taken in a parking lot when she was a student, when Old Nick pretended his dog was ill and needed help. And she was kept in a small room, Room, 11-foot square, with a little television set and minimal facilities. Her teeth have rotted for lack of care, she loses a child, buried under the roots of a tree in the yard outside, and then has Jack, who becomes her world and her sanity. She is a character in agony, her emotions untold yet somehow felt through her son’s voice as he speaks of her being sick, of her face being stripey wet, of her not waking up one day…
Perhaps a grown-up voice for this story would make it sound like a bad screenplay. Maybe the simple frame of reference of a child makes the tale more effective, albeit rather sickly sweet in parts. But the relationship between mother and child, bonded by solitude, captivity, breast-feeding and small aspects like flipping Mattress on Fridays, eating with Meltedy Spoon, brushing Teeth to dazzling white and making sure there are no germs, is touching, genuine, charming. In the reading, in the understanding and in the news-linked basis to the story, an essential truth echoes on: No one should go through the nightmare again. Not another Jack, not another Ma.
ROOM by Emma Donoghue
Sometimes all it takes is a little imagination to make something better than it is. Add a few real-life ingredients, stir in a little helping of ‘what-if’, let it simmer into a nightmare and it is lifted beyond the realm of the mundane into an award-winner, or a potential one. Room is a little like that. On the longlist for the Man Booker Prize 2010, it acts as a kind of literary sledgehammer to bring home the nasty realism of events that have been unfolding the world over – the captivity of young women for many years by some man who could be a stranger, could be a father, but is, almost always, a twisted psyche. There was the Josef Fritzl in Austria, who imprisoned his daughter Elizabeth for 24 years, raped and physically abused her, fathering eight children, one miscarried, one murdered by neglect of illness. Then there was Jaycee Lee Dugard of California, missing for 18 years, held in a small tent in a backyard, with two children from her captor. Lydia Gouardo was locked up by her legal (but not biological) father for 28 years and had six children with him. In Mumbai, two girls were rescued last year after ten years of abuse by their businessman father. Many more such horror stories have been unearthed each week, some even beyond the limits of a sane imagination.
Emma Donoghue taps into this nightmarish vein in Room. In some ways, the writing and the story are simplistic and naïve, without the flavour of genuine emotion or any kind of sophistication of narration. But in that itself there is a chilling feeling of things that should never happen. The matter-of-fact honesty of the child’s telling of the tale gives it more impact than it would have if told in the voice of an adult. The five year old Jack sees the world as he knows it, as he was born into it, not comprehending that it was a captive existence that violated all laws and norms of a ‘civilised’ life in a modern world. And he speaks of it in the same way, knowing only that life, but having to accept that it was not, in some way, what life is and should be.
The story begins with an everyday, as Jack knows it, but for one special thing: he is five. It will soon become an eventful day, since this is the day that Jack will escape from the only space he knows, his small world, Room. For him, Room is home, with Wardrobe, Bed, Rug, Thermostat, Rocker, Kit, Table, Shelf and more. They are all old friends, the beings he is growing up with. He has to hide in Wardrobe when Old Nick comes in. And when Old Nick is gone, Jack can come out and be with his mother, snuggled against her warmth, seeing the bad marks on her neck…And then one night he has to be dead. Not real dead, but pretend dead, made cold with water and rolled up in Rug, so that Old Nick will take him out in his truck and he, Jack, can run away and tell Police to rescue Ma, his mother, who has two names but he can’t remember what they are since they were in the paper that Old Nick took away during the Great Escape. It works, with a few mishaps. Jack and his mother are saved from their cell, taken to a medical facility for help. There, more truths emerge. The story comes together when, with a chilling honesty, Jack says that Old Nick hurt him “two times”. A collective breath is held – by the doctor, by Ma, by the reader – and then released with “When I was doing the Great Escape he dropped me in the truck and also on the trees, the second was the hurtest.”
It has been seven years of captivity for Ma. She was taken in a parking lot when she was a student, when Old Nick pretended his dog was ill and needed help. And she was kept in a small room, Room, 11-foot square, with a little television set and minimal facilities. Her teeth have rotted for lack of care, she loses a child, buried under the roots of a tree in the yard outside, and then has Jack, who becomes her world and her sanity. She is a character in agony, her emotions untold yet somehow felt through her son’s voice as he speaks of her being sick, of her face being stripey wet, of her not waking up one day…
Perhaps a grown-up voice for this story would make it sound like a bad screenplay. Maybe the simple frame of reference of a child makes the tale more effective, albeit rather sickly sweet in parts. But the relationship between mother and child, bonded by solitude, captivity, breast-feeding and small aspects like flipping Mattress on Fridays, eating with Meltedy Spoon, brushing Teeth to dazzling white and making sure there are no germs, is touching, genuine, charming. In the reading, in the understanding and in the news-linked basis to the story, an essential truth echoes on: No one should go through the nightmare again. Not another Jack, not another Ma.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Narendra Kumar Ahmed interview
(In the Bengal Post, today)
The three tall, slim male models stepped slowly on to the platform. Gracefully, gently, they knelt, hands resting on knees, bodies straight, eyes watching what the two kimono-clad young women were doing. It was a version of the elegant tea ceremony so beloved of the Japanese, with its fluid movements and powerful significance. The men wore wrap blouses over pants of different cuts – the first very slim and churidar-like, the second fitted and formal, the third the traditional Japanese hakama, or wide, pleated pajamas. Then, standing up, facing forward, the men shed their wraps to show off a new line of Japanese-inspired jackets: slim and flowing-lapelled, fitted and buttoned and long, lean and bow-tied, the last perhaps most Oriental and yet very Indian in its silhouette. This was the introduction to Narendra Kumar Ahmed’s latest collection, created with a strongly Kurosawa-influenced flavour channeling the samurai ethos from Shadow Warrior to celebrate the designer’s ten years in the fashion industry.
One of the first batch of students graduating (1990) from the National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT) in Delhi, Nari, as he is familiarly known, has had a varied and interesting career. He has worked with master designer Tarun Tahiliani, been part of a number of prestigious industry collaborations, launched numerous lines – department stores, the prêt market, corporate wear and high-end designer garments, and has flagship stores in Mumbai, Bangalore, Gurgaon and elsewhere in India and abroad. He has worked with style magazines and Bollywood films, and has plans to extend his creativity into jeans, home décor and accessories. All along, Nari has maintained that fashion is not merely an elitist concept. As he has said, “I don’t see why designer clothes can’t be affordable. Fashion is not just meant for the rich. To me, fashion has to be a democratic process and I want every woman to be able to wear my creations.”
Known for his well-cut jackets and fluid lines in meticulous tailoring, Nari acknowledges that from a commercial perspective, what sells best is usually Indian-wear. “In garment design, you are seeing a shift towards a greater sense of westernisation, as a major shift. This appeals to a newer, younger generation, since “Not everyone wants to wear something so embroidered and elaborate. A lot of designers that traditionally did Indian clothing are now doing western.” But to achieve that is not always easy, he understands, saying that ‘good’ western wear is all about “cutting and fitting. If you can cut a western outfit someone can wear, you can make a statement out of simplicity.”
This shift in sensibility and style is, as Nari says, “dictated by social trends. After all, people are going out every day, they have careers, they want to stand out but still stay simple and elegant. What is best for them is clothing that can go from work to evening. A lot of it is dictated by what women want, work-wise, mirroring their personal evolution.” And he quickly clarifies that ‘going out’ means “having a sensibility that is driven by a work ethos and not just the tea set”. Budgets, too, have changed. “Clothes are less flashy; there is more spent on travelling, seeing the world, except for big occasions like weddings – and even here it is all much pared down. There is a marked differentiation, with the high-end getting higher, as seen in couture shows, and the ready-to-wear getting more mass market and minimalistic.” Nari believes that even couture, which “caters to more Indian taste, and is an euphemism for weddings and elaborate occasions, have evolved, changed, with often a cocktail party becoming bigger than the actual wedding itself. This calls for more western wear, like gowns and cocktail dresses.”
His own fashion ethic, he explains, “has always been influenced by architecture, by new shapes and forms, like those of architect Zaha Hadid – she inspired me long before most people in India discovered her.” This translates to “very tailored, cut, sharp lines, a kind of transition from architecture into sculpture.” Earlier, his work was about “cutting around the body, now it is more moulding, a softer shape.” And today he finds plenty of scope for lateral growth. There is excitement in his voice as he speaks. “Today when people see you as a signature, it can be extended to so many forms and shapes – interiors, stores, shoes, bags, home, etc. It is, after all, an aesthetic that you build which is your signature, especially today, now, which is the best time to do that exploration.”
A small part of the exploration and journey is the magical world of movies. But it is not a realm Nari wants to spend too much time and mindspace on. He says frankly, “We started doing Bollywood movies (like Prince, Fashion, Aladin, Bees Saal Baad and Baabul) because it was a great vehicle for a designer. But what we are doing generally is moving into working on personal wardrobes for actors. There is no time today to sit on a set and deal with a movie shoot.” For him, celebrities are frequent clients, but he gets the “greatest satisfaction if people who are seen and heard ask for a Narendra Kumar outfit to go out in! That is far more rewarding than working in films, where life is hectic and time schedules are stressful.” For him and his team of designers, “It is time for us to look at brands and brand building. We can’t do brands and films together.”
The future is certainly bright, since apart from his various brands and planned extensions, Nari is also working on a “new print based line and a natural textile based brand, looking at various niches instead of just catering to just a huge mass market.” In addition, he is almost ready with a “jeans line that appeals to the intellect rather than just the body – younger people want to wear jeans that are more interesting for the mind, so we have been conceptualising an idea around the concept that the inside is the outside, reflecting who you, the user, are as a person.” This will be launched at Fashion Week this month and be called Killer Nari. “For us, icons have been people like Che Guevara, a bit rebellious, showing all the while that we are proud to be Indian!”
The three tall, slim male models stepped slowly on to the platform. Gracefully, gently, they knelt, hands resting on knees, bodies straight, eyes watching what the two kimono-clad young women were doing. It was a version of the elegant tea ceremony so beloved of the Japanese, with its fluid movements and powerful significance. The men wore wrap blouses over pants of different cuts – the first very slim and churidar-like, the second fitted and formal, the third the traditional Japanese hakama, or wide, pleated pajamas. Then, standing up, facing forward, the men shed their wraps to show off a new line of Japanese-inspired jackets: slim and flowing-lapelled, fitted and buttoned and long, lean and bow-tied, the last perhaps most Oriental and yet very Indian in its silhouette. This was the introduction to Narendra Kumar Ahmed’s latest collection, created with a strongly Kurosawa-influenced flavour channeling the samurai ethos from Shadow Warrior to celebrate the designer’s ten years in the fashion industry.
One of the first batch of students graduating (1990) from the National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT) in Delhi, Nari, as he is familiarly known, has had a varied and interesting career. He has worked with master designer Tarun Tahiliani, been part of a number of prestigious industry collaborations, launched numerous lines – department stores, the prêt market, corporate wear and high-end designer garments, and has flagship stores in Mumbai, Bangalore, Gurgaon and elsewhere in India and abroad. He has worked with style magazines and Bollywood films, and has plans to extend his creativity into jeans, home décor and accessories. All along, Nari has maintained that fashion is not merely an elitist concept. As he has said, “I don’t see why designer clothes can’t be affordable. Fashion is not just meant for the rich. To me, fashion has to be a democratic process and I want every woman to be able to wear my creations.”
Known for his well-cut jackets and fluid lines in meticulous tailoring, Nari acknowledges that from a commercial perspective, what sells best is usually Indian-wear. “In garment design, you are seeing a shift towards a greater sense of westernisation, as a major shift. This appeals to a newer, younger generation, since “Not everyone wants to wear something so embroidered and elaborate. A lot of designers that traditionally did Indian clothing are now doing western.” But to achieve that is not always easy, he understands, saying that ‘good’ western wear is all about “cutting and fitting. If you can cut a western outfit someone can wear, you can make a statement out of simplicity.”
This shift in sensibility and style is, as Nari says, “dictated by social trends. After all, people are going out every day, they have careers, they want to stand out but still stay simple and elegant. What is best for them is clothing that can go from work to evening. A lot of it is dictated by what women want, work-wise, mirroring their personal evolution.” And he quickly clarifies that ‘going out’ means “having a sensibility that is driven by a work ethos and not just the tea set”. Budgets, too, have changed. “Clothes are less flashy; there is more spent on travelling, seeing the world, except for big occasions like weddings – and even here it is all much pared down. There is a marked differentiation, with the high-end getting higher, as seen in couture shows, and the ready-to-wear getting more mass market and minimalistic.” Nari believes that even couture, which “caters to more Indian taste, and is an euphemism for weddings and elaborate occasions, have evolved, changed, with often a cocktail party becoming bigger than the actual wedding itself. This calls for more western wear, like gowns and cocktail dresses.”
His own fashion ethic, he explains, “has always been influenced by architecture, by new shapes and forms, like those of architect Zaha Hadid – she inspired me long before most people in India discovered her.” This translates to “very tailored, cut, sharp lines, a kind of transition from architecture into sculpture.” Earlier, his work was about “cutting around the body, now it is more moulding, a softer shape.” And today he finds plenty of scope for lateral growth. There is excitement in his voice as he speaks. “Today when people see you as a signature, it can be extended to so many forms and shapes – interiors, stores, shoes, bags, home, etc. It is, after all, an aesthetic that you build which is your signature, especially today, now, which is the best time to do that exploration.”
A small part of the exploration and journey is the magical world of movies. But it is not a realm Nari wants to spend too much time and mindspace on. He says frankly, “We started doing Bollywood movies (like Prince, Fashion, Aladin, Bees Saal Baad and Baabul) because it was a great vehicle for a designer. But what we are doing generally is moving into working on personal wardrobes for actors. There is no time today to sit on a set and deal with a movie shoot.” For him, celebrities are frequent clients, but he gets the “greatest satisfaction if people who are seen and heard ask for a Narendra Kumar outfit to go out in! That is far more rewarding than working in films, where life is hectic and time schedules are stressful.” For him and his team of designers, “It is time for us to look at brands and brand building. We can’t do brands and films together.”
The future is certainly bright, since apart from his various brands and planned extensions, Nari is also working on a “new print based line and a natural textile based brand, looking at various niches instead of just catering to just a huge mass market.” In addition, he is almost ready with a “jeans line that appeals to the intellect rather than just the body – younger people want to wear jeans that are more interesting for the mind, so we have been conceptualising an idea around the concept that the inside is the outside, reflecting who you, the user, are as a person.” This will be launched at Fashion Week this month and be called Killer Nari. “For us, icons have been people like Che Guevara, a bit rebellious, showing all the while that we are proud to be Indian!”
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Kallat in Chicago
(Published in the Bengal Post, Sunday, September 5)
Sometimes coincidence is more than merely eerie. It comes to life with nightmarish clarity, evoking more emotion that the human mind could conceive of absorbing. And sometimes, it is all a matter of finding commonality rather than having it thrust into the limelight, analysing it, understanding it and then creating around it. This is what Jitish Kallat has done with his new installation, Public Notice 3, opening on September 11 this year at the Art Institute of Chicago. With this unusual work, he wanders into history and back to the present, linking two moments in time through their deep philosophical significance, giving his audience fresh food for thought. Kallat takes a speech made by Swami Vivekananda at the First Parliament of Religions held on September 11, 1893 and converts it into LED displays along the risers of the 118 steps on the Woman’s Board General Staircase located close by the original site of the session. Curated by Madhuvanti Ghosh, Marilynn Alsdorf Curator of Indian and Islamic Art at the Art Institute of Chicago, the installation is site-specific and bridges the 108-year gap between the presentation of the speech and the traumatic drama of September 11, 2001, when terrorist attacks devastated the United States and changed the socio-political perspective of the country for ever.
The 1893 Parliament, held in conjunction with the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, was perhaps one of the first attempts to start a global dialogue of religious faiths. Vivekananda spoke of a recognition of and respect for all traditions of belief through universal tolerance, a way of thought so urgently needed today. Religion was at the core of the September 11 attacks that destroyed the World Trade Center in New York City, punched holes in the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and dove a plane into a field in Pennsylvania. Kallat explains that “To see these two events and dates as an almost-palimpsest, laying them one over the other, was the core of the project in some ways. It also falls in line with an index within my practice over the last ten years (two major works: Public Notice, which channelled Jawaharlal Nehru’s speech with burned alphabets, and Public Notice 2, which used Mahatma Gandhi’s speech in resin bones) that looks at the possibility of revisiting a historical speech as a grading mechanism to look at the follies of the current world. The speech that becomes the work itself, so to speak.”
Vivekananda’s words called for the death of fanaticism, the end of intolerance. He argued for universality, religious tolerance and a respectful recognition of all traditions of belief. Kallat believes that “This is as valid in today’s world. While it is revisiting those words spoken on that day, 9/11, Public Notice 3 itself looks at the museum as an architectural site, almost a notepad within which the speech could be re-inscribed.” In a way, the grand staircase becomes part of the art; “It is very beautiful, starting from two sides, going to four sides, broad steps, a gorgeous piece of architecture. Every riser has the text.” And the colours used are as thought-provoking as the work itself. “As you are ascending, you can read the words illuminated in five colours (red, orange, yellow, blue and green) that the US Homeland Security Department has marked as threat levels” – a mechanism defined post-9/11 and revised every day. As Kallat says, “That is where the work comes in; it looks at the date, the words, and refracts them through The threat colours, on a site where the World Parliament of Religions happened, where Vivekananda represented Hinduism. About 108 years later, 9/11 happened.”
And there is more to it, Kallat found as he thought through the concept. “If you want to take coincidences, the number 108 is significant in Hinduism too. Post 9/11 there have been lots of viral emails, a lot of paranoia, numerous connections established, so many conspiracy theories. I started playing with these notions of these theories in a sort of reversal of method - I took those dates and travelled back into the past to go back to that first 9/11, to look at that as a possible way to revisit this highly contested moment; to pick that same code, look at it from the perspective of fantasy perspective and travel back into a real moment. You realise that the nation that became the recipient of that attack was also the host of the original parliament.”
With his three related works, all using important speeches by major Indian statesmen, Kallat finds that he sees “a pattern. Done over the last decade, all three reference historical speeches, but do different things to those words.” They have become more than just works of art, spanning across to literature, “perhaps from the tradition of concrete poetry, where the act of giving shape to an alphabet alters the context of the word and hence gives a cast of meaning to the structure of the poem in a way. It is about using a thread from concrete poetry, but applying that thread to a historical moment.” This awareness came after the fact of creating the work, Kallat admits, “I see that pattern now, not when I did it. Doing this one (installation) made me go back and think about my own processes.”
For Public Notice, Kallat set every alphabet that Nehru delivered in his speech at the midnight of Indian Independence aflame. “The words burned down on the surface of a mirror; the distorted mirror would break and fragment your face as you read the words – it represented a unique present that held no filament of the present or the past.” Public Notice 2, which detailed Gandhi’s speech on non-violent civil disobedience, was cast as 4,600 bone-letters that were placed on shelves like relics. Since then, he has used bones in a number of his works, so much so that they have become almost a signature. But this time, bones do not make the picture. “A few hundred have already experienced it with their bones,” Kallat laughs, “but no resin bones! I am relying on human bones to take people up and down the artwork.”
Jitish Kallat: Public Notice 3
September 11, 2010–January 2, 2011
Art Institute of Chicago
Woman’s Board Grand Staircase
Sometimes coincidence is more than merely eerie. It comes to life with nightmarish clarity, evoking more emotion that the human mind could conceive of absorbing. And sometimes, it is all a matter of finding commonality rather than having it thrust into the limelight, analysing it, understanding it and then creating around it. This is what Jitish Kallat has done with his new installation, Public Notice 3, opening on September 11 this year at the Art Institute of Chicago. With this unusual work, he wanders into history and back to the present, linking two moments in time through their deep philosophical significance, giving his audience fresh food for thought. Kallat takes a speech made by Swami Vivekananda at the First Parliament of Religions held on September 11, 1893 and converts it into LED displays along the risers of the 118 steps on the Woman’s Board General Staircase located close by the original site of the session. Curated by Madhuvanti Ghosh, Marilynn Alsdorf Curator of Indian and Islamic Art at the Art Institute of Chicago, the installation is site-specific and bridges the 108-year gap between the presentation of the speech and the traumatic drama of September 11, 2001, when terrorist attacks devastated the United States and changed the socio-political perspective of the country for ever.
The 1893 Parliament, held in conjunction with the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, was perhaps one of the first attempts to start a global dialogue of religious faiths. Vivekananda spoke of a recognition of and respect for all traditions of belief through universal tolerance, a way of thought so urgently needed today. Religion was at the core of the September 11 attacks that destroyed the World Trade Center in New York City, punched holes in the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and dove a plane into a field in Pennsylvania. Kallat explains that “To see these two events and dates as an almost-palimpsest, laying them one over the other, was the core of the project in some ways. It also falls in line with an index within my practice over the last ten years (two major works: Public Notice, which channelled Jawaharlal Nehru’s speech with burned alphabets, and Public Notice 2, which used Mahatma Gandhi’s speech in resin bones) that looks at the possibility of revisiting a historical speech as a grading mechanism to look at the follies of the current world. The speech that becomes the work itself, so to speak.”
Vivekananda’s words called for the death of fanaticism, the end of intolerance. He argued for universality, religious tolerance and a respectful recognition of all traditions of belief. Kallat believes that “This is as valid in today’s world. While it is revisiting those words spoken on that day, 9/11, Public Notice 3 itself looks at the museum as an architectural site, almost a notepad within which the speech could be re-inscribed.” In a way, the grand staircase becomes part of the art; “It is very beautiful, starting from two sides, going to four sides, broad steps, a gorgeous piece of architecture. Every riser has the text.” And the colours used are as thought-provoking as the work itself. “As you are ascending, you can read the words illuminated in five colours (red, orange, yellow, blue and green) that the US Homeland Security Department has marked as threat levels” – a mechanism defined post-9/11 and revised every day. As Kallat says, “That is where the work comes in; it looks at the date, the words, and refracts them through The threat colours, on a site where the World Parliament of Religions happened, where Vivekananda represented Hinduism. About 108 years later, 9/11 happened.”
And there is more to it, Kallat found as he thought through the concept. “If you want to take coincidences, the number 108 is significant in Hinduism too. Post 9/11 there have been lots of viral emails, a lot of paranoia, numerous connections established, so many conspiracy theories. I started playing with these notions of these theories in a sort of reversal of method - I took those dates and travelled back into the past to go back to that first 9/11, to look at that as a possible way to revisit this highly contested moment; to pick that same code, look at it from the perspective of fantasy perspective and travel back into a real moment. You realise that the nation that became the recipient of that attack was also the host of the original parliament.”
With his three related works, all using important speeches by major Indian statesmen, Kallat finds that he sees “a pattern. Done over the last decade, all three reference historical speeches, but do different things to those words.” They have become more than just works of art, spanning across to literature, “perhaps from the tradition of concrete poetry, where the act of giving shape to an alphabet alters the context of the word and hence gives a cast of meaning to the structure of the poem in a way. It is about using a thread from concrete poetry, but applying that thread to a historical moment.” This awareness came after the fact of creating the work, Kallat admits, “I see that pattern now, not when I did it. Doing this one (installation) made me go back and think about my own processes.”
For Public Notice, Kallat set every alphabet that Nehru delivered in his speech at the midnight of Indian Independence aflame. “The words burned down on the surface of a mirror; the distorted mirror would break and fragment your face as you read the words – it represented a unique present that held no filament of the present or the past.” Public Notice 2, which detailed Gandhi’s speech on non-violent civil disobedience, was cast as 4,600 bone-letters that were placed on shelves like relics. Since then, he has used bones in a number of his works, so much so that they have become almost a signature. But this time, bones do not make the picture. “A few hundred have already experienced it with their bones,” Kallat laughs, “but no resin bones! I am relying on human bones to take people up and down the artwork.”
Jitish Kallat: Public Notice 3
September 11, 2010–January 2, 2011
Art Institute of Chicago
Woman’s Board Grand Staircase
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