During her brief stint as an art gallery assistant, Orijit Sen’s 21-year-old daughter, a fresher out of college, had this job to do, of repeatedly chanting ‘don’t touch’, ‘don’t touch’ to those who walked in. This experience of the girl was enough to spark an idea in Orijit’s mind — why can’t people touch art and play with it? Less than a week away is this idea taking form inside the ground floor galleries of one of the buildings in the Aspinwall House for the Kochi-Muziris Biennale. He is the man credited with the making of India’s first graphic novel, ‘River of Stories’.
In the afternoon, we walked into the place where the preparatory works were on. Orijit’s collaborator Guido was carefully nailing into the wooden planks and other artisans were busy with their respective business. A fun, interactive, game installation is in the making. The graphic artist-cum-designer is collaborating three of his projects together. From this brave voice in the Narmada Bachao Andolan definitely we can’t expect a rib-tickling piece of entertainment alone. There should be more to it and there is.
“It’s not a direct political statement, instead, an implied one. By implication, I focus on three different places — Punjab, Hyderabad and Goa — and their mixed cultures. In Goa, for instance, the Mapusa market sends out a strong expression of the way Catholics and Hindus live in India. These two communities interlace with each other in their cultural aspects. Over time, they evolved their own distinct cultures while remaining interconnected and dependent on each other,” he narrates. In Punjab, it is the GT Road. Speaking little of the place, Orijit switches to Hyderabad. “Hyderabad speaks of how Islamic culture has such a strong and powerful influence in our history and present lives. These are the things the fascists want to deny and oppress. I want to emphasise the strength of our culture.”
Orijit’s work on the project Mapping Mapusa market
The end product is a jigsaw puzzle comprising 48 different pieces, when put together on the jigsaw table brings forth an image on the wall. He has been working on it for about five months, which ‘reflects his concerns about society and India’. More things tumble out as we check into his Facebook account. Resembling the Biennale graffiti stuck street walls of Fort Kochi is his FB wall. Since his arrival in the city some days ago, he has dived into the spirit of the mega art jamboree capturing every essence of the fest, filling the social media space, which hosted controversies and celebrations alike.
“I have been doing that partly because, I find that people are feeling a lot disheartened by the current scenario of demonetisation. There’s a sense that the government is pushing things down everyone’s throat. It’s not a democratic way of taking decisions. I was also commenting and posting about all that. In fact, some posts have gone viral and quoted in Parliament, kicking off debate. I’m part of something very positive and away from the negative sort of disheartening space. I want to share more positivity,” he clarifies. Orijit relates even this “celebration of positive things” to be political, for he, like many artists, won’t define art devoid of politics. Almost the same time a year ago Facebook had blocked him and some of those who shared his posts that violated the community standards.
One of the works, ‘Punjaban’, has a young woman with bare upper body, facing a mirror, undressing. As protests and supports rose, FB reinstated both, which he happily shared in the memories a year later on the same wall. Does he call it a version of intolerance? “A semi-nude woman undressing is apolitical and political at the same time. Facebook blocked me and several others after somebody reported it as offensive. So it’s not only about Facebook. Some people who liked my post must have downloaded it to their computers. Although mine was pulled down, those who downloaded it put up again. That was a political action people took on FB against censorship. It was a victory won as it was reinstated,” he says.
Citing one example, the artist goes into the politics of dressing. Back when he took the Adivasi protestors of the Narmada Bachao Andolan to an upscale New Delhi hotel, they were stopped from entering because of what they wore. So “shedding clothes is also a political act.” Orijit’s political statement is clear. “I am talking about humanity. My job is to fight against whichever government and their wrong policies as a citizen. It’s not because I support any political party. Whoever is corrupt has to be thrown out,” he concludes.
