As I write about my work and my process, I realize I am also writing about my life. What a strangely liberating experience this is, however, at the same time, there is also sense of responsibility I feel- the need to stay honest in what I write and so I must be honest in what I do.
It is the end of the ghost month here in Singapore. It is the month where the door between the realm of the dead and the living is opened and the ghosts of those who have passed on can cross over to the land of the living for entertainment and food. Amongst the rituals and rites of this Chinese tradition comes the most often seen practice of the feeding of the hungry ghost. For this, metal bins are set up all over Singapore and people burn paper money, jewels, servants, clothes to signify abundance of these in the afterlife for their ancestors. It’s not the pretty visual this makes that catches my attention, but the smell of this burning wood, paper and often incense. For me, it takes me back to my childhood vacations in Pune, of cool winter evenings and small wood fires. It takes me back to the morning after, when the fog had not lifted and the air held a scent of the forest, and the pale morning sun would slide weakly through the vaporous air. Physically, I walked down the street this morning, but in reality, I was walking down another street entirely, one created solely on a memory trigger of a smell.
When looking at art, I feel this is relevant. As artists, our world view is as unique as anyone else’s. What I struggle with is, how can I tap this kind of memory trigger with my viewer so that I can transport them to a place they have been before, or might want to go to in the future- and, I need to do this using only one sense- the sense of sight.
It is the end of the ghost month here in Singapore. It is the month where the door between the realm of the dead and the living is opened and the ghosts of those who have passed on can cross over to the land of the living for entertainment and food. Amongst the rituals and rites of this Chinese tradition comes the most often seen practice of the feeding of the hungry ghost. For this, metal bins are set up all over Singapore and people burn paper money, jewels, servants, clothes to signify abundance of these in the afterlife for their ancestors. It’s not the pretty visual this makes that catches my attention, but the smell of this burning wood, paper and often incense. For me, it takes me back to my childhood vacations in Pune, of cool winter evenings and small wood fires. It takes me back to the morning after, when the fog had not lifted and the air held a scent of the forest, and the pale morning sun would slide weakly through the vaporous air. Physically, I walked down the street this morning, but in reality, I was walking down another street entirely, one created solely on a memory trigger of a smell.
When looking at art, I feel this is relevant. As artists, our world view is as unique as anyone else’s. What I struggle with is, how can I tap this kind of memory trigger with my viewer so that I can transport them to a place they have been before, or might want to go to in the future- and, I need to do this using only one sense- the sense of sight.
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