Bricolage Magazine | Issue 2 | June - Aug 2013

Issue 02 June - August 2013

teamFounder and Editor-in-Chief KRITI BAJAJSenior Editor SONAL JHAArts Editor MEDHA KULKARNIAssociate Editor AARUSHI UBOWEJAAssociate Editor VARUN WARRIERLegal Advisor AKSHAY RAM

Layout Design KRITI BAJAJ

Cover Photograph VASUDHA WADHERA Marine Drive, Mumbai

www.bricolagemagazine.comwww.facebook.com/bricolagemagazinetwitter.com/Bricolage_magissuu.com/bricolagemagazine

PHOTOGRAPH BY RASHMI SWAMY IN DIU, INDIA

editorialDear Readers,

Welcome to another issue of Bricolage Magazine. It is only our second, and what an adventure the last six months have been! We, like any other publication, have had our ups and downs, and it has not always been easy to keep a voluntary project like this going. But we’ve come this far, and for that, we have our wonderful readers and contributors once more to thank. We’re also delighted to have expanded our team in August 2013 with two brand new editors, whose work you will find in this issue.

This issue contains stories, essays, poetry, interviews, art and photography from contributors in India, Jordan, the UK, and Belgium. I hope that reading it will prove as much of a learning and enjoyable experience for you as editing and compiling it has been for us.

Without further ado, I give you our second issue!

Kriti BajajEditor-in-Chief

[email protected] Guidelines - www.bricolagemagazine.com/p/submissions.html

[email protected]

All rights remain with respective authors/artists.Terms of Service - www.bricolagemagazine.com/p/terms-of-service.html

contentsFICTION

4 Snow - Varun Warrier

POETRY

8 Three Poems - Sudevi Geary

11 Systems of Silence - Aarushi Uboweja

DIARY

14 Find Your Forest - Ramit Singal

FEATURES

18 Safarvia: Language, Culture, Travel - Samar Saeed

21 Revisiting Josephine: A Tour of Malmaison - Judy Rae

ART

26 The Golden Ear: A Tribute to Wagner - Ratnadeep Gopal Adivrekar

INTERVIEWS

34 Meet the Artist: Ratnadeep Gopal Adivrekar - Medha Kulkarni

37 Sahana Balasubramanya: The Language of Dance - Kriti Bajaj

PHOTOGRAPHY

42 The Silence of Diu - Rashmi Swamy

1

f i c t i o n

SnowWe ran together, skittishly, falling over ourselves that day. You had your mittens on, and I had none, and by the time we came back, my palms were bruised and swollen from the cold ice. All around us there was a faint hum, a gentle sigh of the land on this God-given day. How long we had waited. How long the weather forecasters had teased us, promising snow many times over a span of three years.

You were the first to see it. I was still in the attic, searching for old blankets that my mother had carefully stowed away many years ago. I heard your voice, screaming, and I thought someone had broken in. When I rushed down, I saw you by the window, your face pressed up against the glass. You were shivering. When I came up to you, you whispered in great fear that it was all over. The sky was falling, you said, and the clouds had come apart, torn by something unimaginably feral. When I looked outside, I could see it. There were soft white patches, nothing I had ever seen or heard of in my life. I thought you were right, and I could hear my heart beat faster, and feel my forehead break into a sweat. But, when I looked out, all I could think was how beautiful it looked.

For weeks we had the cold wave. It lulled the land, and soon, the earth burst into colours we had seen only in books before. Forgotten ochres, vermilions, and crimsons. The leaves became papery, and the air brittle. Soon, all that remained were deep skeletal branches, stretching into the white sky.

VARUN WARRIER

4BRICOLAGE MAGAZINE

We were the lucky few. Between you and me, we had several old blankets and sweaters that we had inherited from our grandparents. They were all mottled and moth-eaten. We didn’t know what to do with them, but we didn’t throw them out. They were precious heirlooms, meant to be preserved and protected. All around us people shivered when the cold came in. Their open houses swayed as the wind whipped through. The frail timber frames shrank into themselves, as if afraid. Our skins turned pale and our noses became runny.

When I came back from work one day, exhausted and weak from the cold, I saw you sitting on the floor, old books splayed out in front of you. These are grandmother’s, you said, without me even asking. They were old picture books, with printed stories woven in between. I sat down next to you out of curiosity. I remembered my mother reading these stories out loud to me when I was still a child on her lap. Those were the years of the long summer. The air was rancid with the heat, and you could hear the land shrivelling. Spread out before us were stories long forgotten. There were pictures of young girls and boys in gaily coloured coats, sweaters, scarves and hats. They were dancing in a field, stark white and bare. How happy they looked. You turned to me and asked, were you ever this happy as a child? I pressed my hand into yours, and not lifting my eyes from the book said that it was all a story, none of it was true.

Then came the rumours. I heard them first, at work. Up in the north, the cold had dried the sea, casting it into a pale, crystal sheet that spread for acres and acres. There were stories of people dancing on this vast sheet, playing games and having fun. The sea had receded and thrown up more land. None of it had ever happened before in living memory, and we brushed it aside, you and I, preferring to believe that this was all fiction, a crazy hope brought in by the dipping temperatures.

In the morning when I woke up, the day after the first flurries, I saw the room bathed in a pale glow. The sky was still sullen. When I looked out, I saw the whole field outside white and pale, ephemeral in the early morning light. I shouted, suddenly joyous and frightened. It was true after all. All those stories trapped in lines and words had quietly, overnight, taken flight and landed in our own world. I called out to you, barely unable to conceal my excitement. When you came, and looked outside through the window pane, I could hear your breath quicken. Already people were outside, gamboling in the whiteness, scooping the snow in their naked palms and hitting each other with it.

That night you and I made love. You giggled and told me how weird it felt, under all these blankets, when it was dark and frightening. I pressed myself closer to you, and your palms found their way up and down my back. And there, in the heat of my back, they remained. There, in the heat, you found comfort once again.

Varun Warrier is a graduate from Madras Christian College, Chennai, and a Postgraduate from University College London. He is currently reading for an MPhil in Psychiatry at the University of Cambridge. His works have been previously published in magazines such as Chai Kadai, Pyrta Journal and Fiction365. He is an associate editor at Bricolage Magazine.

Photograph by Carmen Gonzalezcarmengflahavin.tumblr.com

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p o e t r y

Three Poemsby Sudevi Geary

We cannot travel everywhere together.

There are some conclusions to which we can ridedown the markets of our belongingarms gracing armswith unbarred wheels and brakes that fail -let us soarwe’re too good at this, comradetoo fast to stop for the lightsthe riverthe dark waters traversed in linewith out of tune proclamations of our loveour lifeit is good to us.Our critical mass finds its flow upstreamagainst the tidesthe trafficthe only one way to goand we yell successes into the earthbreak through concreteyodel through ancient echoes with tales of near missesof oops and ha ha and look how we livehow life,enamoured by our juices,drinks from our veins.

But we cannot travel everywhere togetherand it endswhen we hear yells nothing like our ownof a manblackpulled to the ground by sixwhiteand under a stern gaze

a powerhouse in a dark skya body, just a body,buried before he is crematedunder graceless arms and unloving chests;our group splintersour wheels sink in sympathya synchronised fallI fall behind.

Some journeys demand solitudea sober call for meaningfor answers to questions asked before dream.As I walk awaya stranger passes and asks the air,“How scared is she?”then I begin

We cannot travel everywhere together.

Journeymen

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I like to sit with you on days like these,when pathetic fallacy finds its vocation

among discarded leaf platesand the sour breath of decaying tomatoes.

I find a shrivelled coconut that looks like a bird,like softer bodies than tough shells,

like old life perpetually taking new forms;I’m reminded of you.

I cannot find you in the usual places;they yell your words through ego,

through crackling back-wired speakersand I cannot hear you in them.

Perhaps I am trippingup on their confusion, theirs

because the day we arrived hereI felt you carry me to your grave

to soothe my wounds with your salt.

I wanted to burn with you,I wanted to surrender my eyes

at your feet, feel your armsholding me away from the rest of this madness.

I want to see your eyes still,two pillars holding my soul,

holding back the waves of self-destruction.

I like to sit with you on days like these,when marigold ropes hang from your door,when we speak through water and wind.

Marigolds

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This building screamsand we sit here in silence.

We hold our breath,resign our needs,

leave oxygen to the skies as wesearch through symbols for signs of life.

He traces shapes with the ink of his eyes,balancing corners on lines

that, if looked at in the right light,show us what we cannot know.

This was the shell I admired from afar,a relic of a beast that once lived,

that now,in the geometry of its smoothed bones,

gives shelter to all the parasites of history.

In these deadened woodslie

a corpse upon a shield,a sword of this (our) battle

to carve down the living and,on the skins of the past,spend a thousand years

arguingon what it means to be alive.

Senate House Library

Sudevi Geary is an MA Social Anthropology and a BA (Hons) English with Creative Writing graduate. She is many different things and someone once called her a ‘brutal angel of wisdom’, but he doesn’t speak to her anymore. She lusts after the forest, and when you’re not looking she will pick the flow-ers from your garden.

Photograph“Marine Drive”

by Vasudha Wadherawww.facebook.com/vasudhawadheraphotography

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Systems of Silenceby Aarushi Uboweja

Music invents Silence

It is twilight. The quietof my breath, an equilibrium

of space and sound. Absenceis a premonition. Soon I will

trace my memoirs; my echoeswill confine the exiles of silence

that your voice will vacate. The spectresof my presence will observe

nothing. Stealthily, the rainwill wash away the chronicles

of ashes. Nomads will come.Music will invent silence.

Eclipse

We live underwater.I am told that

no one hears the rain.

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d i a r y

Aarushi Uboweja is a research associate at Central Square Foundation. A graduate of the Young India Fellowship, she hopes to travel, see the world, read and write. She is an associate editor at Bricolage Magazine.

Photograph“Monsoon Reflections” by Siddharth Pandit

www.facebook.com/SiddharthPanditPhotographyInstagram: @thesidp

Soul Kitchen

Sitting across each other –the two of us, timeworn,

with glazed eyes.At a loss for words, bartering

awkward silences.It is a fair exchange, hush

for hush.Trough on trough, a function

that is periodic, constant.A conundrum, the equation

with no solution.A spider, scuttling

in circles.Chasing itself, solemnising

the genesis of logic,seeking deliverance.


d i a r y

Find your forestby Ramit Singal

Until my final year in school, my only exposure to forests and the outdoors was in the form of vacations and occasional family outings to the mountains and to national parks. I observed them with a sense of awe – their power and unhindered functioning – from the outside. But I never truly embraced the wild, never really belonged.

When birdwatching became my hobby as a teenager, the forest meant a little more - but the vacations were now spent looking out for as many species of birds as possible in a short period of time. While this did enhance my understanding of some of the citizens of the forest, I still didn’t belong. I was merely a short-term visitor looking for something in the presence of the mighty trees and the not-so-mighty creatures that resided amongst them.

When I moved to Manipal, a small university town situated between the Western Ghats and the coast, I was excited, and eager to discover a part of India I had not yet seen. Using the power of my legs as transport, I started exploring what was available to me in Manipal itself. I spent hours rooted to one spot under a tree.

Day by day, my focus evolved. I was no longer looking for birds. I was beginning to understand the system in which these birds worked. I let the tree become a part of me – or vice versa. I let insects crawl on my feet. I watched lizards coming out of hiding as they no longer viewed me as a threat. The birds started to grow accustomed to my presence. They perched near me, and went about their business unmindful of my presence. Even the local people who would use the tracks in these patches soon stopped caring. I no longer felt like an outsider; I felt like I belonged.

It was a different feeling.

I let the forest accept me, and it did. Where I fit, I still do not know. But my eyes were opening to something I had never experienced before.

I stopped travelling on roads and paths. Letting my eyes be my guide, I started travelling along branches and up tree trunks. I started appreciating minute details. On some days, it was the ants I travelled with, watching them encountering little bumps and obstacles, battling a heavy breeze. I travelled with caterpillars working their way up a big leaf. I travelled with seasons. I watched the tree change and shed and grow


over the year. I let my body and clothes absorb the raindrops that fell on me. I watched animals come and leave. I sat unmoving and let the birds and small mammals forage for food, feed their young and battle for territories in front of me.

As a birdwatcher, this has been the most beautiful phase for me. I do not always find new birds now, but I watch and understand more birds than ever before. They let me photograph them at close quarters. They let me into their private lives. And the more I have watched, the more I have learnt. The more I find intriguing. I have more questions now, but I also have more answers. The art of observing creatures who cannot speak to you is one that requires quite a bit of patience. To understand the habits and routines of these denizens as they go about their lives can be altogether confusing. There are moments when I feel alienated, not knowing why something is doing what it does. But it’s when I encounter eureka moments, and fit together the pieces of the puzzle that their lives are, that the hours of waiting pay off. The feeling of being able to interact with a different species in mute understanding is beautiful. To find connections, to see the cycle of life play out in front of you, to understand why the locust eats the crop, or why the Rosy Starlings come after the locust flocks to eat them; to understand that this is balance, after all.

I no longer travel the same. Checking things off a list has become a thing of the past. My eyes and my senses feel more involved now. I like my patches of forests. It may be at home in Delhi, around me in Manipal or in a place where I am a “tourist”. I find my tree(s) and I find my spot, and I sit down and let these places take me with them, inviting me into their lives.

Ramit Singal is the author of the recently released A Birder’s Handbook to Manipal (2013, Manipal University Press). A lazy traveller and an avid birdwatcher, he dreams of living off a rucksack someday. You can find more on birdwatching in Manipal at Manipal - The Birdwatching Chronicles (manipalbirding.tumblr.com) and more of his photography at The Flights of the Fancy Falcon (outonthebounce.tumblr.com).

Photographs by Ramit Singal.

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f e a t u r e s

Their passion to learn new languages, combined with their love to travel and the inspiration they get from meeting people across the world led to the creation of Safarvia. Friends since high school, its three co-founders, Yasmeen Smadi, Rula Yaghmour, and Rasha Fakhouri are enthusiastic and committed to spreading the culture of learning through travel. ‘’We strongly believe that language connects people, dismantles constructed barriers, and allows us to accept each other and our differences,’’ says Yasmeen. Their slogan, ‘’talk to the world’’ is a reflection of what Safarvia aims to achieve: encouraging people to learn a language while traveling, exploring different cities, and communicating with diverse people. As Rasha says, “the easiest and best way to learn a new language is to live in the country whose language you wish to learn, a country where using your mother tongue is not possible.’’

The name Safarvia is a combination of Arabic and Latin words. Safar means traveling in Arabic, and via is the Latin word for path. ‘’The name combines travel and the path to a new and unique experience. We wanted to include an Arabic word because we are Arabs and wanted our identity to be present in the name, and via was chosen because we started off

with Latin language courses,’’ says Rula.

The story of Safarvia started when Yasmeen decided to travel to Valencia, her ultimate dream, to enhance her Spanish language skills. As she embarked on the planning of the journey, she was confronted with many obstacles. ‘’I did the research from scratch, because I didn’t find resources to guide me through the process of selecting suitable schools, registration, and finding proper accommodation. I booked everything online and was afraid that upon my arrival to Valencia I wouldn’t find the school. Seriously, I was very worried until I arrived at the school and thought thank God, it’s there,’’ says Yasmeen. This encouraged Yasmeen to approach her two partners, Rula and Rasha, with the idea for Safarvia.

Safarvia offers language courses in different countries across Europe and the Middle East. Apart from providing advice on travel preparations, it also offers combined courses, such as language and fashion design or language and photography, among many others. One of their customers, for example, wanted to combine an Italian language course with Italian culinary classes.

SAFARVIA Language, Culture, Travelby SAMAR SAEED


During her travels, Yasmeen combined her Spanish language course with tennis. ‘’It is not only an educational trip, but also a vacation. All our partner schools offer activities, so you not only learn a new language but you’re also introduced to the people and the city’’ says Rula. She adds that Safarvia is a one-stop-shop for learning a new language abroad. ‘’We did the research, we already went through the experience, and now we offer our insight for no extra charge. The schools we partner with are authentic and small- to medium-sized schools that aim to offer our students a personal experience and a friendly environment. Our prices are also

compatible with school prices, except that we offer travel advice, language options, and customized programs. If you want to go to Spain, for example, we can guide you to the city that best suits your interests,’’ says Rasha.

Developing Safarvia was a challenging experience. As full-time employees, with backgrounds in the pharmaceutical industry and architecture, they lacked the experience to set up a new business, and time management stands as a serious obstacle. The co-founders conducted their own market research and depended on their friends and colleagues for support and advice. ‘’We are truly grateful to everyone that believed in our project and assisted us with the legal, organizational, and branding aspects. Without their constant encouragement and advice, Safarvia wouldn’t be possible,’’ says Yasmeen. The co-founders also encountered the

prolonged bureaucracy system to register Safarvia, as well as financial burdens, since they invested their own money in the project and refrained from involving external investors. Despite the obstacles, Safarvia turned out to be a success. Their user-friendly website allows you to navigate through the different courses offered and make your booking in approximately three minutes.

Since its launch, Safarvia has depended on social media for its outreach and communication strategy. ‘’Social media is instrumental for us. We are a web-based company and social media

encouraged us to proceed with our project. Two weeks into launching our Facebook page, we received more than 1000 likes and the number continues to increase. This is phenomenal,’’ says Rula. Safarvia’s fans are not only from Jordan, but come from various parts of the world. ‘’Our outreach on Google analytics indicated that people viewed us from across the globe. The Middle East market is very new to many organizations and the fact that we operate from Jordan encouraged many to contact us for collaboration,’’ says Rasha. The cofounders constantly update their page and reply to messages to remain in direct contact with their followers. Their target audience is everyone interested in learning a new language while visiting a new city. Individuals who are 18 and above can book directly through the website; for high-school students, customized packages are arranged to best fit students’ needs.

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The feedback Safarvia received from people has been extraordinary. ‘’People are enthusiastic and interested in the services we offer. We had to open the four language courses all at once due to demand from customers. They like the idea,’’ says Rasha. One of their followers captured the true essence of what Safarvia is when she said, ‘’[Safarvia is an] amazing initiative. It connects me with my past – when I travelled to Rome and later to Siena to pursue Italian language courses. Driven by passion and

dedication, I can master the language fluently. But what made the experience worthy was the travel; it brings authenticity to learning and immerses the learner into culture. Che bella italia.’’

Rula ended the interview by sharing her favorite quote by Ibn Battoutah, ‘’Traveling: it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.’’ The team behind Safarvia want more storytellers in this world.

Learning Spanish in Madrid

safarvia.comwww.facebook.com/Safarvia

Samar Saeed holds a B.A. from George Mason University and an M.A. in Near and Middle East Studies from the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS). She currently resides in Jordan.

Photograph of the co-founders by Samar Saeed.

This article was first published at Be Amman (beamman.com)


Many tourists traveling to Paris look for a dose of sugar-coated history by heading to the Palace of Versailles or the Palace of Fontainebleau. Both famous residences are dripping with opulent eye candy, but there is a hidden gem waiting patiently to be unwrapped by those interested in the private residence of one of France’s most famous couples.

Château de Malmaison was the country home of the Emperor and Empress of France, Napoleon and Joséphine Bonaparte. It is where Joséphine spent her final years, and also where Napoleon wished to be taken after his escape from the island of Elba.

Walking up to the chateau, you’re surrounded by aisles of roses and cone-shaped topiaries. Even on the rain-soaked day I arrived, the roses brought life to the surroundings. At its prime, there were 250 different varieties of roses planted by the Empress and her gardeners; to say that Joséphine loved flowers would be an understatement. It seems fitting that the Empress’s middle name was Rose. Thirty years after her death, a Russian Grand Duke named a rose in honour of Joséphine, called “Souvenir de la Malmaison”. Today, there are several floral-scented perfumes bearing the Empress’s name; and the day I went to Malmaison, I had the pleasure of discovering one made from an assortment of botanicals from Joséphine’s garden.

Walking into the home felt oddly comfortable. Computers and telephones were replaced by writing desks and books. The space felt lived in. While much of the original furniture was auctioned off after Joséphine’s death in 1814, the house is filled with period pieces – some original, and many which came from the apartment that she and Napoleon had in the Tuileries Palace. Every room holds reminders of the famous residents, like the Imperial bumblebee and eagle, the monogramed letters “J” and “N”, and numerous portraits. Most of the paintings on the walls are from the Empress’s private collection; many were gifts from Napoleon.

Revisiting Joséphine

a tour of Malmaisonby JUDY RAE

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Napoleon Crossing the Alps, by Jacques-Louis David, resides within Malmaison. It was originally commissioned by Charles IV, King of Spain from 1788-1808, to symbolize unity between the two countries. Napoleon was allegedly so touched by the King’s gesture that he requested three additional versions of the painting. There are details that may be missed at first glance, like the rocks in the lower left corner. If you look closely, you’ll see the names of Hannibal and KAROLVS MAGNVS IMP (a.k.a. Charlemagne), two other generals that crossed the Alps before Napoleon. This painting is a wonderful representation of how Napoleon viewed himself: larger than life.

Napoleon’s mahogany study left me almost speechless. At one time, there were over 40,000 leather bound books lining the walls. More than 500 have been found and placed back upon the shelves. The original volumes bear the embossed emblem “BP”, for Bonaparte. Hidden behind mirrors is a private staircase leading up to the Emperor’s apartment. Everything in the study is scholarly, like paintings of Homer and Voltaire, and the medallions of Apollo and Minerva. Even after the couple’s divorce in 1809, Joséphine was adamant that nothing change in her husband’s study.

The next stop on the tour would rival the grandeur of Napoleon’s work space.

Upstairs, I found myself at a standstill within the Empress’s Bedchamber. The room mimics a luxurious tent. Rich ruby-red fabrics drape the walls. The focal point is a golden canopy bed, topped with the Imperial eagle. It was here that Joséphine died in 1814, four days after catching a cold while on a walk in the gardens of Malmaison with the Tsar of Russia. It is said her that last word before dying was “Bonaparte”. Napoleon chose to visit Malmaison for two days after his escape from Elba. Even though he was no longer married to Joséphine, he wanted to pay respect to the memory of his first wife before embarking on another military campaign, Waterloo.

Unfortunately, the second floor was not open when I toured Malmaison. Had it been, I would have seen not only an assortment of clothing worn by the Empress, but also original pieces from her court’s attire. The second floor also has the Train Room: a space dedicated to the lavishly long robes worn by Joséphine’s court. Documented inventory shows that the Empress, at one time, had 49 elaborate trains. She was known to select the colours for her train based solely on the furniture and wall coverings of the area she was attending. Joséphine was notorious for her extravagant spending.


Last was a visit to the Carriage Pavilion, on the grounds of Malmaison. There are two pieces of history you won’t want to miss: a remnant on wheels from the Battle of Waterloo – the carriage used by the Emperor, seized by the Prussian army on June 18th, 1815; and the hearse used on St. Helena for the Emperor’s funeral.

Before we left, my daughter, Audrey, pointed out something unique. She guided me over to a beautiful painting just off the entrance. It wasn’t the painting’s beauty that caught her eye; it was the location, perched on an easel in the corner of the room. What made the painting so spectacular was that this family portrait stood exactly where it was painted. You could see the fireplace in the background, the ornately painted walls, and the gold and crystal chandelier hanging above. With the exception of the subjects in the portrait, over 200 years later, nothing had changed within the room. Time may not stand still, but I think that in the case of Malmaison, if Joséphine and Napoleon were to walk through the door, they would feel right at home.

Judy Rae lives and works in southern Belgium with her husband and four daughters. She currently writes a monthly column for a publication serving the local NATO community. Her situation provides plenty of opportunities to pursue her passions, travel writing and the French language. Her sense of wonder and curiosity keep life interesting wherever she lands. She blogs at Abroad in Pinstripes (www.abroadinpinstripes.blogspot.be).

All photographs courtesy of the author.

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Ratnadeep Gopal Adivrekar, born 1974, grew up in Mumbai, India. He received his BFA in painting with first class from Sir J. J. School of Art in 1997. He is the recipient of several prestigious awards like The Governors Prize, The Harmony Award for Best Emerging Artist and the Bendre-Hussain Scholarship. He has had solo exhibitions around the world, including:

> Discourses of Prismatic Truths at Pavillon du Centanarie/Arcelor Mittal, Luxembourg, 2011> Allegories of Talking Road at Galerie Sylvia Bernhardt, Germany, 2010> Proverbial In(ter)ventions at the NUS Museum, Singapore, 2009

Group exhibitions include:

> Power of Peace, UNESCO 2nd Global Forum, Bangkok, Thailand, 2009> Imprints, Ueno Royal Museum, Tokyo, Japan, 2007> Indian Art, Lasalle-SIA College of Art, Sculpture Square Gallery, Singapore, 2006

Reviews in Time-Out, Asian Art News, Art and Deal, and Indian Contemporary Art Journal have critically appraised his work.

The artist works in Mumbai, India & Berlin, Germany. For more information, visit his website (www.ratnadeepgopaladivrekar.com)

The Ring, 96x192 inches, oil on canvas

A selection of works from the artist’s recently concluded exhibition in Germany, commemorating the 200th birth anniversary of the legendary German composer, Richard Wagner.

The Golden Ear - a tribute to WagnerRATNADEEP GOPAL ADIVREKAR


Memoirs of the Unreal Cities, 48x68 inches, oil on canvas

To See, 48x68 inches, oil on canvas

The Golden Ear - a tribute to WagnerRATNADEEP GOPAL ADIVREKAR

The Golden Ear, 48x68 inches, oil on canvas

Untitled - Siegfried and Brunhilda, 21x28 inches, oil on canvas

28

Tribute to the Wagnerians, 60x90 inches, oil on canvas

Walk in the Symmetrical Forest, 48x68 inches, oil on canvas

29

Catharsis, 48x68 inches, oil on canvas

i n t e r v i e w s

MEET THE ARTIST: RATNADEEP GOPAL ADIVREKAR

Mumbai-based contemporary Indian artist Ratnadeep Gopal Adivrekar became the first Indian to exhibit his work at Wagner’s magnified opera in Germany in July 2013. Bricolage Magazine featured some pieces from this exhibition here. Medha Kulkarni talks to him about the process of his art, his inspiration and the Wagner exhibition in Germany.

Let’s start at the beginning. When did you decide to be an artist?

Interestingly, I actually rebelled against being an artist. Both my parents are artists and I’ve grown up in that art environment. There were always artists, writers and musicians at our place and I rebelled and opted for science in school. I was diligently pursuing my education, but then I had a sudden moment of clarity, and I knew at that moment that I could do nothing other than paint, other than be an artist.

What has the journey been like since then?

I have never looked back. I started seriously pursuing art as a career almost twenty years ago, and not a day has gone by since then that I haven’t painted.

What medium do you work in and why?

I enjoy mixed media work and am always experimenting. However, I do a lot of work with oils, and charcoal and acrylic.

What is challenging about these mediums?

They are both very different. With oils, the challenge is also it’s advantage: oils are a very strong medium. I have to clearly

visualize what I want to do and paint accordingly. The advantage is that it helps me to create structured work, but the disadvantage is that I can’t flow with it. If I make a mistake, I have to start afresh. I usually use oils for my larger works. Charcoals and acrylics, on the other hand, allow a lot of experimental freedom. I usually use these for smaller works.

From where do you draw inspiration?

I grew up in Mumbai and it is from this city that I draw my inspiration. The way people think is something I find extremely intriguing. Mumbai is a throbbing, pulsating city and its life force is its people.

You have recently become the first Indian artist to exhibit his work at Wagner’s magnified opera in Germany. How did this opportunity come along?

I had recently had an exhibition at Luxembourg, and had


MEET THE ARTIST: RATNADEEP GOPAL ADIVREKAR

The Ring, 96x192 inches, oil on canvas. The central imagery of this painting is that of Dahi Handi, a festival celebrated in western India, especially Mumbai. It is a sport organised on Krishna Janmashtmi to celebrate the birth of Lord Krishna. Govinda players gather under the dahi handi (yoghurt pot), making a human pyramid to catch and then break the earthen pot hung high with a rope. The festival is popular in the textile mill areas of Mumbai, and played by mill workers due to their high physical endurance.

In the painting, the crowd of Dahi Handi is placed against scenes from the Mahabharata (which resemble the stories of the Ring rendered in Chitrakathi, a folk art from Ratnagiri) and the characters of Wagner’s Ring, placed in ring formation.

the opportunity to meet with some of the best opera artists there. I was introduced to Wagner’s work and was immediately captivated. This is how the idea of an exhibition of paintings based on Wagner’s work came about.

Take us through the creative process for this show.

I spent some time in Germany, studying his works and visiting as many operas as I could. Wagner’s work draws from Nordic tales, and the themes in his work, such as greed, lust, love etc. are very similar to those in the Mahabharata. So I decided to juxtapose his work with the Mahabharata, as is evident in the paintings themselves. I made thousands of preliminary study sketches before I actually started working on the exhibition.

How long did it take to finish the works for this exhibition?

Almost a year and a half.

What challenges did you face while working on this

exhibition?

The most challenging part was the cultural gap. I studied Wagner’s works in depth but it is not possible for me, as an Indian, to understand some of the subtle, cultural nuances. Also, I was juxtaposing his work against something that perhaps a European audience would not be familiar with. I had to do a lot of preliminary research work for it and am pleased to say that the exhibition has drawn extremely positive responses from a diverse audience since its opening on the 19th [of July, 2013].

Your work for this exhibition consists of a lot of overlapping imagery. Is there any conceptual reason behind this style?

Absolutely. I have played with layering

by MEDHA KULKARNI

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because it literally mimics Wagner’s style. Through layering, I attempted to simultaneously showcase three themes in one work, namely the main opera, the life of Wagner himself and the work of the Wagnerians.

Who are the Wagnerians?

The scholars and artists who have kept his work and its magic alive!

What has been your greatest artistic success?

It would have to be this Wagner show. The pan-cultural association was extremely challenging to work with.

What is your next project?

I am working on my next solo show, which will be at the Tao Art Gallery in Mumbai this October. After that, I have another show in New York next summer.

Finally, do you have any advice for aspiring artists?

Once you decide to be an artist, don’t ever stop painting. I start painting at 9 a.m. and sometimes only stop at 3 or 4 a.m. The more you practice, the better your work will be. Keep painting, stay inspired and do whatever it takes to constantly fuel your passion.

Medha Kulkarni is passionate about all things art, and holds an M.A. in History of Art from SOAS, University of London. She currently works at the G5A Foundation for Contemporary Culture in Mumbai, and is a freelance art writer. She is the Arts Editor at Bricolage Magazine.

Image courtesy of the artist.


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Sahana has been training under the renowned

Guru Saroja Vaidyanathan for the last fifteen years in the Tanjavur style of

Bharatanatyam. She has since performed solo across India,

as well as in Japan, China, Sri Lanka, USA, Sweden and Latvia, and is a senior dance faculty member at Ganesa Natyalaya, New Delhi. An empanelled artiste of the

ICCR, she is the recipient of several awards such as the Nritya Vilasini and Nritya

Mani National Award. She also holds a Master’s degree

in Mathematics from Lady Shri Ram College, University

of Delhi, and hopes to pursue a PhD in Mathematics.

Sahana Balasubramanyathe language of dance

by KRITI BAJAJ

ISSUE 02

Could you give us a brief background of Bharatanatyam as a dance style?

Bharatanatyam is considered a fire-dance - a mystic manifestation of the metaphysical element of fire in the human body. A combination of expression (bha - bhava), melody (ra - raga) and rhythm (ta - tala), Bharatanatyam is a traditional south Indian dance form. The music that accompanies it is the Carnatic style of music - the south Indian music school.

It is said that Lord Shiva performed his cosmic dance at the temple at Chidambaram, and the great sage Bharata Muni observed his dance and codified the movements into the Natya Shastra. The acrobatic karnas of Shiva, as depicted in this text, inspired the sculptures in the ancient temples of southern India. Under the deva-dasi system (which means those dedicated to the gods), the dasis derived a dance form called Dasiattam from these sculptures, which they used to dance in praise of the gods in the Hindu pantheon, as part of the service of the temple. In return for their patronage to the temples, local kings started inviting the temple dancers to dance in their courts, the occurrence of which created a new category of dancers - rajanarthakis - and modified the technique and themes of the recitals. While a devadasi had to satisfy her own soul as she danced unwatched and offered herself to the Lord, the rajanarthaki’s dance was meant to be a form of entertainment. Thus, the nature of the dance form went from being looked upon as devotional to

entertainment. Further, as most of these devadasis were from the so called “lower” castes, the art form began to lose respect.

Rukmini Devi Arundale was instrumental in modifying Dasiattam and bringing it to the attention of the West in the early 1920s. Though she belonged to the Indian upper-caste, she espoused the cause of Bharatanatyam. Recognizing the spiritual value of this art form, she not only learned the dance, but also presented it on stage. She also raised Bharatanatyam to a puritan art form by removing objectionable elements (mostly the Sringara, certain emotional elements evocative of the erotic). And so Bharatanatyam as we know it today came into being.

What are some of the themes, mythological or otherwise, that Bharatanatyam explores and portrays?

There are, of course, the purely mythological themes which extol various episodes from Hindu mythology and the epics. But in recent years, dancers are using the language of Bharatanatyam to depict modern themes. For example, my guru, Padmabhushan Saroja Vaidyanathan has choreographed an entire ballet on women’s empowerment, based on the compositions of the poet Subramanium Bharati on the same issue.

What is even more commendable is that dancers

Sahana performing the Ardhanaareeshwara Ashtakam at Bangalore, 2012. Photograph by Giridhar Chandrasekar.


are now also finding new meaning in certain traditional compositions. For instance, the Ardhanaareeshwara Ashtakam, a composition of Shri Adi Shankaracharya which I have had the pleasure of presenting on stage, can be interpreted as a striking example of gender equality. The complete Ardhanaareeshwara being is indeed half man and half woman - Shiva and Parvati fused as one. Despite their stark contrast of femininity and masculinity, dancing the lasya and tandava (acknowledged as the feminine and masculine aspects of dance) respectively, they are together responsible for the process of creation.

Another striking example is that of danseuse Mythili Prakash in her production Stree Katha (Story of a Woman), where she depicts Shoorpanakha as a woman who questions typical notions of physical beauty, and why not conforming to those notions excludes her from the possibility of getting a desirable husband. Similarly, other themes explored in this way are the denunciation of the caste system (depicted by the episode in the Ramayana where Lord Rama meets Shabari, and very willingly eats the fruit she offers him), of female infanticide (Kamsa being prevented from killing the female child Yog Maya) and so on.

What would you say is the relevance of ancient dance forms, and how do they compare with contemporary dance styles?

I think the scope of traditional dance forms in general and Bharatanatyam in particular is very vast. Apart from keeping our culture and heritage alive, it has helped break geographic barriers. Many foreigners are now attempting to learn and teach this art form. In India, it has leant itself to national integration, with many dancers now using compositions of North Indian poets, like Meera Bai and Tulsidas. Several masterpieces from other countries have also been depicted using Indian dance forms, such as Swan Lake, which has been done in Mohiniattam (a dance style from Kerala). I think this breeds tolerance and helps to reach out to a wider audience. The reinterpretation of myths and legends in the modern context, as illustrated in the previous question, also adds to the relevance of ancient dance forms. The universality of emotions and the fondness for rhythm makes it easy for people everywhere to appreciate dance.

In the same way, contemporary dance styles have

also evolved a lot. I did perform as a contemporary dancer for my college team, which I enjoyed a lot, but not as much as Bharatanatyam. I think it would be unfair to run a comparison between the two, given that the language and grammar of both dance styles is so different. But for me, Bharatanatyam is not just a means of expressing myself, but also a pathway to god. I find some spiritual upliftment whenever I practice the art form or I am on stage. I think it helps me connect with myself better, and find that spark of divinity that exists within all of us.

As a choreographer, from where do you draw inspiration?

I like to draw inspiration from my own personal experiences, whenever possible. It is easy to tap into one’s own memories where themes like friendship, love, compassion, fear, wonder and sorrow are concerned. It makes the process of emoting natural, both for me and to be able to connect with the audience. But there is such a plethora of emotions that one encounters in various compositions, that it is nearly impossible for one person (especially someone as young as me!) to have experienced all that. Feelings of motherhood, for example, or being scorned by a lover, are therefore harder to depict. For such cases, I observe those around me and empathise with them, or use my imagination to figure out how I would react in such situations.

The knack for choreographing the nritta part, or pure dance, which consists of basic adavus (steps) strung together, comes from knowing your own body, an understanding of movement dynamics, the awareness of what suits you as a dancer and what looks aesthetic on stage. Experience, of course, helps in this matter, and observing senior dancers is also a great way to develop this understanding; but I would never copy them blindly. I believe in being true to myself.

Where have you most enjoyed performing?

I think that each recital is a unique experience, but a few that really hold a special place for me are the recital for AID India at Duke University, USA, my performance at ICC, Colombo, and my show for SWAR Saraswati at Delhi. The audience at these venues were just great and very involved with the music and dance. They made me realise that the art form is

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bigger than the artist, and that a language barrier does not impede audiences from appreciating our classical dances - at Colombo I received a standing ovation! I met a lot of wonderful people while interacting with the audience after the shows, which just adds to the charm of being a performing artiste.

With all your training, credentials, and love for dance, why haven’t you taken up dance full-time?

Unfortunately, dance as a career is not an economically viable option. It requires institutional support, and classical dance, like Bollywood and Indian politics, tends to be a largely family centric set-up. My sensible side urges me to dance because I love to, and not because I am compelled to earn my livelihood from it. Since I don’t believe that talent is hereditary, dance will always be a part of my life, and

my efforts to better myself as a dancer will continue. I see it as a journey, and not as a destination in itself.

You have said that dance is like geometry in space. Do your academic pursuits and your artistic ones influence each other, or would you say that they co-exist?

Yes, I do believe that the dancers’ body is a sacred tool that we use to carve imagery in space. As danseuse Geeta Chandran ji said recently, doing only one thing makes you myopic. I am also a mathematician, but I don’t find that my academic pursuits influence my artistic abilities or vice-versa. Instead I would say that they balance each other - one enriches my brain, and the other my body and soul. So they do co-exist in harmony for me, like different facets of my personality.

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Kriti Bajaj writes, blogs, wanders and dabbles in photography. Her work has been published at The Culture Trip, IIC Diary, Hamazor and Fezana. She blogs at Reflections (www.partingthesilk.blogspot.in). She is also the editor-in-chief of Bricolage Magazine.

Photographs by Kriti Bajajkritilbajaj.carbonmade.com

and Giridhar Chandrasekarwww.giridhar.co.in


p h o t o g r a p h y

The Silence of Diuby RASHMI SWAMY

We visited the island of Diu, off the coastline of Gujarat, not knowing what to expect. Steeped in its Portuguese heritage, it seemed like a land that was hardly visited - or maybe early December wasn’t the season. That said, isn’t that the best kind of place to be on a holiday?

Most of the places we went to - the fort, the marshlands, the harbour, the beaches - seemed to be enveloped in a resounding silence, calm and with an old town charm. I registered that silence more while looking at these images later, which turned out more glaringly still than busy. But such was Diu, and one can only be mighty glad for that. You could walk down the quiet streets of the town and imagine being transported to an alternative set of Midnight in Paris.

Silence speaks when words can’t.


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Rashmi Swamy was job seeking as a geneticist, but the varied interests took their turn at the end of 2011. She now makes a living as a photographer while studying counselling psychology. Loves travelling, dunking her coffee, gloomy days, and being a happy introvert. She lives and works in Bangalore, India. For more of her work, visit her blog (blog.rashmiswamy.com).

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Bricolage Magazine | Issue 2 | June - Aug 2013

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