Oil Pastel on Acrylic on Canvas

So I’ve been a part of a group that facilitates art workshops in prisons around the state of Michigan, as part of the PCAP project.

As an experience, of course, it has been incredibly enriching but more than that, it has been emotionally exhausting. By meeting inmates at such a close level, I not only found myself questioning the things I had taken for granted for myself, but also, found myself trying to imagine myself in their situation often.

How would I feel to be treated as almost inhuman? As an animal, all caged up and expecting to be corrected? We forget the reasons of crime and as a society enforce a punitive justice system that forces us to look at justice as revenge.

I painted, in response.  A poem by an inmate published in Judith Tannenbaum’s book of prison poetry and her experience titled ‘Disguised as a Poem’ , really appealed me to me and I decided to express that visually.

The poem by an inmate named ‘Elmo’, goes:

“How can I give this thing

a  name?

This thing inside of me

This thing I feel

It is a hungry thing

and my greatest fear

is that it wants to

consume me.

How do I fight this thing?

This crafty thing

which moves in and out of me

like a tide

moves through me

with the force of radiation

deadly but unseen

How shall I fight thins thing?

And how much of it shall remain

when the battle

is finally over?”

Ganesha is the destroyer of fear, of evil, we believe. Ganesha, the elephant God that frames the picture with butterfly wings behind him. Darkness suppresses, threatening to overtake in the sides.

I was deeply inspired by Judith Tannenbaum, the author of ‘A Place to Stand’. Highly recommend reading about her.

As an ode to this city, and a goodbye to my friends, lovers, enemies and strangers who shaped my stay here, I am presenting little frames of mixed-media work.

For all those who are reading this in Ann Arbor, you just might receive one soon!

:)

As part of the AHA! International Theatre for Children Festival’11, I used Arzu Mistry’s mural making technique to facilitate a workshop, making murals with children aged between eight and thirteen.

Participants: Akhil, Asawari, Shishu, Mrinalini, Anush and Avni

This mural was created using the scaling up and scaling down properties of an overhead projector. The participants of the workshop were asked to create stencils on transparencies, on themes revolving around the elements of artwork for the AHA! International Theatre for Children Fest’11. Each participant was made to take their photograph on a webcam, which was connected to a projector and projected onto 9 foot long plywood. The image was then scaled up and down according to the composition visualized.The stencils were also traced and then overlapped to create a composition of black and white shapes.

Next, each shape was filled in with a different shade of a particular color. Groups of shapes were demarcated for different color families and this technique was followed to fill in the entire mural.

To hug, to hold, to kiss

then breathe

She needs to be alone

inside that thought

is a melting pot

of connections

she could never make

Another time,

on another page

she will be lost

in time

in a memory

and a longing

to capture

what she can’t

find

A city an hour away from Ann Arbour showed me new sides of America. I met two Canadian friends who had crossed the border to spend the day loitering around the motor city with various cameras in hand.

To view this album further, please click here.

Taken with a Lomography Action Sampler

I looked outside

and saw my friends

blue eyed frosted cynics

inviting me in.

As they laughed and shook

their foreign heads

I asked,

Is the moment

more important

or the person?

Glass doors

they seemed opaque

but strangely

filtered some light in,

tiny streams

of yellow murky brown,

through the snow

of people

who belonged here.

More lomography? Find some here!

I’m currently writing something on what it means to be a feminist in the field of theatre today. I am not a feminist. I can’t let myself and my work be defined as one. This anxiety to be defined as one needed to be questioned.

The journey is documented here:

https://sites.google.com/site/nehanbhat/

Hope you enjoy reading it! I’ll upload the final research soon, if someone in a new performance backyard theatre company happens to be looking for someone else in the world with similar thoughts.

You: That is the tenth time this hour you’ve scratched a sentence out.

You’re pushing the nib in too deep. The paper is going to tear. Can’t you see the ink

flowing out of the words? What are you searching for? Who are you seeking?

Me:  You’re behaving like you don’t know.

You’re looking down at me trying to capture you, aren’t you? To name you, to make you tangible in some sense? I have tried other things to get to you. You know that. Maybe the nib was too sharp to come out of. Something softer, more subtle would work to get a hold of you, I thought. Maybe you’d decide to drip onto my white canvas through the fine hair of a paintbrush dipped in water. No, that would be too slow. You’re too fast for me. A camera could work better then, I imagined. I used a film roll- looked at your imprints in a dark room to understand who you really are. But you’re too clever for me, I think. Or I’m ignoring something about you. How do you affect me in so many ways?

Why does so much of who I am have to do with who you are?

You: Started with your riddles again, haven’t you?

You like confusion. You complain about it but you find comfort in your loops, your circles of the same thoughts, the same ideas you’ve been battling with ever since you understood you wanted to apply yourself in art.

Don’t you?

Me:   And you find comfort in your questions. Perhaps questions could be your answer. I should try defining you through questions.

You: Why not? Solve a riddle with another riddle!

This is a part of another narrative I am writing- a dialogue between selves. Any ideas for extension?
Anything at this point would help!

Since I published this post, I have been receiving many messages asking me to stop talking about friends’ personal lives. Just to clarify, this is a narrative based on memory. When I was young, I heard someone in the near family making a choice and that influenced me. What comes out now, is fictional.

Displayed at University of Michigan SAPAC ( Sexual Abuse and Prevention Centre, Ann Arbour, Michigan)’s art exhibit called Revolution, the pictures can be found here.

You were an object
A toy
An instrument
They said
He used you
They said
I have a girlfriend
He said
She loves me
He said
But doesn’t fuck me
Like you do

He said
I love her
He said
I love you
He said
He used you
They said
You fuck me too well
He said
To let go
He said
Would you love me too
I said
If she didn’t love you
I said

You think too much
He said
Won’t you hold me tonight
He said
I like your hat
She said
Walking in the snow
Hot ginger lemon in one hand
The other arm

Tightly tucked
In his
You have lovely eyes
I said
Heard so much about you
I said
Seen your picture
I said
He loves you
I said
The girl who fucked dishonesty
They said
The boy who loved
Two worlds
They said
And kept each a secret
They said
Because the girl was too nice
They said
She was scared
They said
To lose what she never had
They said
How did they know
I said
Can you keep a secret
I said
I’ve just met you
She said
Smiling, amused by this girl
But, sure
She said
Tell me
Don’t we need to go
He said
It is getting late
He said
It is getting late
I said
It is probably
Too late already
I said
Whatever do you mean
She said
I fucked him
I said
He fucked me
I said
He fucked you
I said

You are a whore
A bloody whore
She said
Bloody
She said

An honest one
She said
Coffee in our hands
What could I do
I said
What can I do
She said

You are a whore
They said
You shouldn’t have told her
They said
You won’t sleep with me, then?
He said
You are a fucker
She said
She was right
She said.