Home Art Project: 2020

Artists were selected by a distinguished three-member jury panel- Nisar Hossain (Former Dean, Faculty of Fine Art, University of Dhaka), Alak Roy (Professor, Department of Fine Arts, University of Chittagong), and Tayeba Begum Lipi (Artist and Co-founder, Britto Arts Trust). Throughout the residency, grantees received virtual mentorship from acclaimed artists Dhali Al Mamoon, Mahbubur Rahman, and Bishwajit Goswami.

Grantees: Abdullah Al Bashir, Aminul Islam Ashik, Ashim Halder Sagor, Dinar Sultana Putul, Jayatu Chakma, Md. Anisul Haque, Md. Imtiaj Islam Rasel, Mohammad Mojahidur Rahman Sarker, Niaz Uddin Ahmmed, Rakib Anwar, Shimul Datta, Shimul Saha, Soma Surovi Jannat, Sumon Wahed

What should we say, what should have been said, when should we show what we see, and how should we see what has been shown? These are some of the current emerging inquiries on our mental landscapes. Socrates told us to "Know Thyself," but oftentimes that sense of self has left the body towards an unknown destination. In truth, you, he, and I are all part of this divorce between the self and the body. Our stolen identities and not knowing the path to the body home has left us pondering on a journey of discomfort. Every day we reassure ourselves by posing a self-image to the world audience and eagerly wait to be validated of our existence amidst the rest. Our findings are often coated with true lies. Yet, our findings rejuvenate us. They give us a new sense of self. They give us a wholesome understanding of ourselves. Knowing fully that these lies are far from the truth that each of us carries within our core, we continue. All the detours we take to get to that body home leave us with further inquiries and doubts. Is this partly because of our ignorance or is it truly a new beginning on that unknown path of a new self with renewed identities that live beyond our body?

My sharing with Brihatta Art Foundation was marinated with this line of inquiry. I went forward to discuss what matters to me, for whom I exist, and what I am at the end of all that I have experienced. My vocation as an architect seeks less of what an architect wishes to find in his or her act of building through material construction. My work wishes to resonate with all the little things that life has to offer. Blended with rights and wrongs, a work of architecture strives to express the innate truth of its time and space. I wish to dwell in those spaces of the mind and reality and offer the molecules of truths of being. From a doorknob to a foundation footing, I take equal pride in discovering the hidden energy of the given objects. There are no moments of confusion there, only curiosity and gut feeling.

Brihatta Art Foundation has selfishly offered me the scope to share my conviction and the truths that I live by with the wider audience. A platform of this vigor can propel the future of art toward a more meaningful direction. Will there be bumps in the journey? Yes, of course, but this journey must not be left untrodden and definitely not left alone. I wish to extend my gratitude to Brihatta for reaching out to me with solidarity and gentleness. There is no doubt in my mind that their solemn approach to hearing others will come of age and shine in the end.

Salauddin Ahmed
Principal at Atelier Robin Architects
Director of Curatorial and Design Program at Bengal Institute

The fifteen artists of the “Brihatta Home Art Project 2020” respond to their time during the global pandemic, demystifying the social and ecological concerns and proposing reform, with the obligation to remind us about the new ‘normal’. The artists, in the course of nearly a year, have taken possession of their reality, inviting us to explore their personal space, artistic process, and tactile expression, as a rediscovery of physical exhibition and experiential knowledge. The difficulty of taking possession of our current reality is enormous, and any free movement or intimate gesture is not easy during the time of physical distancing.

Thus, on the one hand, we now have an opportunity to rethink the value of experiencing art in person, and on the other hand, we can now identify our existing distance with nature in the course of brutal urbanisation. The artists bring us to these essential inquiries: questioning the social and the cultural systems with a formative language and artistic liberation, reminding us about the ecology and its connection to the human individual.

It is important to remember that one should not satisfy the system; rather, it should be refined for ecological protection. Representing a number of distinctive languages and interdisciplinary forms that exceed any single approach, the artists have found innovative ways of conceptualising and responding to their concerns, investigating the intersection of art history, politico-ecological theory, environmental activism, and postcolonial globalisation. The contemporary painters focus on the linguistic components of painting with respect to elementary instruments as canvas, colour, and space, thus returning to the field as primary, aniconic paradigms, free from iconological connection with the elements of self-construction.

These approaches, nonetheless, share a collective expression of scientific, cultural, or philosophical knowledge, which, when brought together with interdisciplinary forms, indicates an eco-aesthetic rethinking of politics as much as art’s relation to the biosphere and of nature's inextricable links to the human world of economics, technology, and cultural tradition. With the artworks taking up the floor of Quamrul Hassan Exhibition Hall in Bengal Shilpalay, the exhibition is a rediscovery of viewing space, corner, corridor, or the axis that unites the floor, wall, and ceiling, with new aesthetic strategies. The artists emphasise the experimental rather than the speculative nature of the works, underlining the site-specific installations, the physical presence of the object, and the interactivity with the viewers with respect to the resonance and experience of our current reality.

Tanzim Wahab
Curator

Dinar Sultana Putul | Md. Imtiaj Islam Rasel |Soma Surovi Jannat

We are all nature's children. Since time immemorial, humans have always turned to nature for solace and inspiration. The most ancient form of art, cave paintings, utilized natural objects and organic materials to tell stories. This ancient practice of respecting nature and its bounty holds much sway over artistic endeavours in the subcontinent. In the famous Sanskrit play written by Kalidasa, Abhijñānashākuntalam, the lead character Shakuntala used to ornate herself with flowers. Nature allows us to engage with it in different forms of commentary and critique. As the form of art and visual imagery continue to oversaturate society, many contemporary artists have started to reconnect with their roots by working with natural materials. From using organic colors to generating ideas, each of the following artists has made a powerful impact on contemporary South Asian art. Existing somewhere between form and function, the organic sustainability of their work solidifies the enduring penchant for naturalism in art and design. These three artists from "Brihatta Home Art Project 2020," took their inspiration from the art of nature and utilised natural materials to create their artwork, each bringing their own unique perspective to the nature around us.

Ashim Haldar Sagor | Md. Anisul Haque Rony | Mohammad Mojahidur Rahman Sarkar

The birth of ceramic art dates back to when humans discovered that clay could be found in abundance and formed into objects by first mixing with water and then "firing" them. The oldest known ceramic artifact is the Venus of Dolní Věstonice, dated as early as 28,000 BCE. Use of ceramics increased dramatically during the Neolithic period, with the establishment of settled communities dedicated to agriculture and farming. As ceramic pottery evolved in its use of elaborated paintings, these objects eventually became art. From prehistoric pottery to ancient Greek amphoras, from the rise of porcelain in Asia and Europe to the Arts and Crafts movement in the USA and England, ceramic traditions have long fascinated artists and infiltrated their practices. Ceramic art in South Asia is one of the most tangible and iconic parts of art history. Evidence of pottery has been found in the early settlements of Lahuradewa and later the Indus Valley Civilization. Today, ceramic art is considered as an invaluable and unavoidable part of our culture. Due to its long-rooted history with the land, in the contemporary South Asian art world, ceramics art arguably achieved peak popularity. These three artists from "Brihatta Home Art Project 2020," chose ceramic as their medium. Each ceramic artist featured in this selection combines technical mastery with emerging socio-economic issues to give their art a contemporary outlook.

Jayatu Chakma

Textile or fabric art is one of the oldest forms of art practice in Bangladesh. At the inception of human civilization, textile did not serve the purpose of beautification, it had practical needs-such as clothing or blankets to keep warm. Anthropologists estimate that the earliest fabric or textile dated 100,000 to 500,000 years ago. In the Neolithic period, as different cultures settled, textile production gradually became complex. Human groups started using spun fibers to create strands of thread. Later, those were woven together and began to resemble more of what we are used to today. Textile has a long and distinguished history in the South Asian region, not just because it had various techniques, but also had traditional diversity. Each different group of people adorns different types of fabric art which brings the emotions and techniques together and makes those textiles unique.

Aminul Islam Ashik | Shimul Datta

Throughout history, the concept of sculptures amassed such reverence that by the time civilization began, sculptures were deemed to be representations of gods. In time, sculptures were no longer dedicated to religious purpose only as artists started experimenting with three dimensional forms.. Eventually it led to portrait sculpting, an art form that continues till date. On the South Asian subcontinent, sculpting has possibly been the most practiced medium of artistic expression. Architecture is also profusely adorned with sculptures which makes sculpture work often inseparable from it. Initially, the subjects of South Asian sculpture are almost invariably religious. This does not emphasize that it cannot be understood as an artwork apart from its religious significance; but an understanding of its motivation and intent enriches one's appreciation. In different periods sculpted images became a common part in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism. The scope of modern and contemporary South Asian sculpture is diverse. Two artists from the Brihatta Home Art Project 2020 chose to express their passion through sculpting.

Abdullah Al Bashir | Niaz Uddin Ahmmed | Rakib Anwar | Shimul Saha | Sumon Wahed

The long history of painting in the South Asian region is dominated by two formats: miniatures- which illustrate the stories of both sacred and secular manuscripts, and the large-scale murals- which decorate the walls of temples and royal palaces. Each of these formats play a fundamental role in the development of the visual culture of South Asia. Because of their portability, manuscript paintings first brought the region's artistic tradition to the world's attention. This led to the flourish of miniature paintings during the Mughal Empire (1526-1858). Some paintings accompanied religious texts, as the written word is central to the various religions found in South Asia, such as Buddhism, Hinduism, Jainism, and Islam. At the same time, a rich secular literary tradition-including tales of rulers, romances, and dramas - also contributed to the large output of illustrated texts. We have come a long way from documenting mythological tales to mobilizing painting to capture the voice of the contemporary. Today, many artists are creating new narratives in contemporary South Asian art. Five artists from Brihatta Home Art Project 2020 are raising the bar of South Asian painting.

Humaira Hossain

Research Assistant
Brihatta Home Art Project 2020

Brihatta's Home Art Project 2020 was conceptualised with a single thought in mind: to engage the Bangladeshi art community. At that time of inception, the initiative was formulated as a response to the lockdowns, a collective effort to break out of the pandemic fugue. Now as the project nears its final exhibition stage, it becomes imperative to reflect on the behind-the-scenes activities that provided foundational integrity: the jury process.

In June 2020, Brihatta Art Foundation announced the open call for the residency, receiving a resounding response to the tune of 123 proposals. These proposals went through a rigorous testing process with three rounds of selections, the first conducted by Brihatta's internal jury panel composed of trustees Bipul Mallick, Mong Mong Sho and Syed Kushol. The meticulous first screening whittled down the proposals to 79 candidates, whose full details were then handed over to an external jury panel of art experts.

Coming from different walks of life, the three-membered external jury boasts both artistic ingenuity and scholarly prowess. The jury included Alak Roy, eminent sculptor and founder of the Chittagong Sculpture Center, Nisar Hossain, artist and Dean of the Faculty of Fine Art, Dhaka University and Tayeba Begum Lipi, contemporary artist and co-founder of Britto Arts Trust. The diversity speaks to Brihatta's philosophy to engage multiple voices through its platform, allowing heterogeneous discourse.

Since a core concept of the Home Art Project 2020 was to ensure connectivity through isolation, it allowed the jury the convenience to "work from home". Using technology to its full potential while preserving safety through social distancing rules, each juror was given the link to Brihatta's Google Drive containing the proposals. Each juror submitted a list of individual choices after much discussion and deliberation of their rationale. Each list was cross-matched creating a primary lineup of twenty shortlisted artists who were called for interviews with the jury to present their ideas for the residency. The verbal evaluation process was thorough in its assessment, running four hours long before the jury agreed on the final fifteen.

The final fifteen artists selected from the shortlisted twenty went on to complete the three-month virtual residency mentored and guided by Dhali Al Mamoon, Mahbubur Rahmand and Bishwajit Goswami. In retrospect, the process seems so simplistic in its endeavour and execution. But at a time darkened by the shadows of the pandemic these simple proceedings provided the kindling necessary for restarting the raging fire of creativity that has birthed "Brihatta Home Art Project 2020". The rest is just art in motion.

Kashfia Arif
Creative Writer and Editor
Brihatta Home Art Project 2020

As a cultural scholar who sometimes likes to self-identify as an art aficionado (one who admittedly doesn't understand abstract art), there is a question I often ponder: what do artists talk about when they get together?

Is the conversation dominated by colours and brush strokes? Do themes make an appearance? Is it all experiential and existential talk Form, structure, lines, and shape? Or are the conversations as banal as talking about traffic or the weather? Or do they just talk shop about the technical details of the next schedule or exhibition? Well, it seems artists talk about all these things and more. They walk that fine line between the creative and the mundane. Theirs is an interdisciplinary meshing of thoughts, of topics, of academic fields that allow them to maybe find that golden nugget of creative spark that births artistic vision.

It was in that spirit of curiosity that I conducted my own adda session with the three mentors of Brihatta Art Foundation's Home Art Project 2020. This was my way of bringing closure to the project. Helming the Home Art Project as mentors are three artists who are talented in their own right: Dhali Al Mamoon, Mahbubur Rahman, and Bishwajit Goswami. For the majority of the project, the mentees were at the forefront: whether it was their progress presentations or the "impART" sessions they participated in. The mentors rightfully took a backseat to the whole process: the spotlight wasn't meant to be trained on them. However, no one can deny that the project was conceptualised around the idea of mentorship, and that concept fails if we leave out the mentors from it. I have to admit to having a vested interest in mediating such a discourse. While I have worked with and known Bishwajit Goswami for nearly a decade now, I have only known Dhali Al Mamoon and Mahbubur Rahman through their works and involvement in the art community. The opportunity to be able to pick their brains was one too good to pass up. Personal curiosity aside, this adda was held precisely to see what the mentors' retrospective was in regards to the collective project, the success of each mentee, and their own individual standing. In a year spent in lockdown, where the world stopped and progress was stymied, where the arts and culture were stunted, Brihatta's art mentorship program ended up achieving a lot. Instead of being a period of stagnation and mental fossilisation, it was a period of growth for both mentees and mentors alike.

Mamoon was forthcoming on the approach to the mentorship: it wasn't a dictatorship nor was it meant to be pedantic guidance. The artists mentored are all practicing artists and had ideas that they had submitted in an open call and the selections were done from there to see how to guide them into completion. Mamoon states, "We have differing opinions and if there isn't diversity in creativity then it becomes difficult to open and explore different languages, territories and arenas. That respect was important and was maintained." Rahman agrees that democratic ideology was key to the entire project. Artists don't like fetters and chaining them up in rigidity only diminishes the depth of creative potential. However, that did not mean that the project discourse was devoid of healthy debate and critical engagement. The mentors ensured to create an argumentative environment, which was dialogic. It created possibilities and it allowed two-way conversation, which is rare in the Bangladeshi art community.

As Goswami explained, the original idea was crafted out of a need to connect and reconnect. The mentors wanted to create a space virtually where they would be able to share expressions and ideas without hindrances despite the loss of connection brought on by the pandemic. It was to continue the human connection that the pandemic had taken away from artists. While the final product appears seamless, the start was difficult. The trauma brought on by the pandemic had made quite a psychological impact on the participating artists. Goswami remembers, "In the beginning, they didn't know how to express themselves or their ideas properly: they were either stunted in communication or over-enthused. But as the project continued, the dynamics shifted and the space started to resemble what we had wanted: a spontaneous wave of contact and connection."

It is improbable that you will ask artists to have a discussion and not expect it to turn philosophical at some point. Rahman espoused the tendency of individuals, particularly artists, to become entrenched in their own works and thoughts, especially during the creative process. Being able to converse once or twice a week critically felt like a bridge between worlds. "It was interesting to see how the psychology of the artists and how the pandemic itself was reflected in their works. I was curious to see how these young artists reacted to it. But then again, I do question if it was important to react? Nonetheless, the art practices revealed a subjectivity to their objective perspectives. Our weekly conversations and debates were important. Sometimes artists keep working without facing any questions and their thoughts become fixed and stagnant. Therefore, when faced with questions, perhaps their mental patterns and individuality can become shaky, but it is important to be questioned because this begets growth. This cultivates and develops culture since it is integral to understand oneself."

Style was a big question for me. Each mentor has a distinct art style they are known for and so I wondered how the division of the mentees happened. The order of the day was apparently no order. The jury selected the "students" so they had no hand in which artist was assigned to them. So their personal styles were only favourable as far as guidance went. But it appears that the mentors were always focused on the language of expression as opposed to style. Their desire to meld different styles together and bring something new from that is what had interested them in the Home Art Project to begin with. The plurality and multiplicity of it all gave rise to a unique form of collectivism.

Style, language, process, and expression aside, the final looming question at the end of the day is the one surrounding success. Were the mentees successful? Were the mentors effective? The answer isn't simple since the barometer for success doesn't lie in commercial or exhibitional value but rather in the journey that was undertaken to reach the destination. As Rahman puts it, "if 100% of the entire project is considered excellent, then that's not a good thing. I think the bad is equally as necessary as the good to bring about balance and learning." If the path of learning was one that yielded knowledge, then the project achieved its goals. Rahman feels that the Home Art Project is good practice, an exercise that will help in the next project the mentees undertake. The mentorship process allowed a methodology to grow that will aid them next time. The mentors' answer, therefore, cannot be an objective one, and in that lies the very subjectivity that gives rise to art.

There is no end product in art, but the problem of modernity and modernism is to try and label and neatly categorise everything. The Home Art Project sought to break away from that. Whether it succeeded or not is not a question that can be answered objectively. Art is subjective in its essence. As Mamoon muses, "it all comes down to perception and depiction." The other mentors and I are on the same page on this one.

Kashfia Arif
Creative Writer and Editor
Brihatta Home Art Project 2020

The impact of COVID-19 has been unprecedented both on the social and cultural life of mankind. Developing countries, which have a wide range of unregistered sectors where people have to earn their livelihoods on a daily basis, have especially suffered. Workers and labourers were forced to leave their work sites, and there has been a huge shift in the economic pattern of the daily-wage labourers. Cultural workers have also had to suffer as the regular physical engagement in cultural and social events was stalled. Although many practitioners are exploring the online world as a possible platform to connect and re-engage, one has to be conscious about both the possibility and the invisible control of the whole system. On one level, while the online platform has generated the new possibility of reaching out to a larger group of viewers and listeners, the uncontrolled circulation and control of data and metadata by certain systems of social networking is creating new forms of surveillance and social control of tracing and trapping. Similarly, while there is a huge possibility of an emerging critical sphere, a new system of centralised control is also on the rise.

New social forums need to emerge that can formalise and safeguard the dignity of work and labour in the emerging space of the online world. Art activity cannot stay away from this growing system of surveillance and accept the online media only as a new possibility of conversation, circulation, and transaction. The public sphere and public domain have to operate in tandem to critique these systems of mass control into private circles of dialogues and disperse the single system of control into a multilayered phenomenon in both physical and online platforms and sustain the spirit of absence and incompleteness as an aesthetic paradigm for the future.

Sanchayan Ghosh
Associate Professor & Head of Department, Department of Painting, Kala Bhavana
Visva Bharati University

"Every crisis is also an opportunity" - Yuval Noah Harari

The urgency of the above statement by Harari, made in the wake of the present pandemic, is felt deeply and compulsively by the pedagogical programmers or education planners within or without various institutions, like any other professional working towards the rebuilding of our society. However, in the domain of art and culture, and particularly within the pedagogical spaces, the same belief encounters several obstacles and challenges that are peculiar and unique due to the very nature of the practice we are committed to. Effects of lockdown and the urgency for physical distancing to deal with the pandemic have left and perhaps are still leaving enormous scars, pain, and despair, only to add blues to the already dismal state of affairs - be it economics, social, and the economics of art practice. We distinctly remember how, at the beginning of the pandemic, the misery of the artists was directed mostly towards the art market and its incapability to function the way it used to do before. While this deep-seated worry certainly has a reality, we cannot ignore the fact that it also revealed our over-dependence on the highway of the art-market with shimmering asphalt roads interjected by high-end art galleries - the new-age shopping malls of art.

The obvious sarcastic tone in the preceding sentence is not to degrade or downplay the significant role gallery-oriented and the specialised collector-driven art market has played over the decades in the subcontinent but to provoke all the participants including artists, buyers, collectors, curators, art critics, gallerists and very importantly art-lovers and art-viewers to reimagine and restrategise the entire game plan to sustain art and artists at every possible level of society and with every kind of visual artist. No matter how utopic it may sound to some ears, a mass appeal to reorient our art-practice, art-pedagogy, art-dissemination and art-sustenance is the call of the day. Mostly, we have been trying to adjust, and rightfully so. Simultaneously, the need to reimagine is also looming large. Probably, the call is not for adjustment or compensation of the loss merely but to reframe and relocate the art-practice embracing a certain amount of unpredictability, vulnerability and a greater amount of social and ecological responsibility.

Online - which was paradoxically the most hopeful and anxious buzz-word in March 2020 became the "normalised" global platform for all who can afford it. Despite the discomforting factors of "privilege" and thus "discriminating", online platforms have certainly created viable ways to reach out, share and express. The question is, what do we share, what do we express, and why do we reach out? More importantly, for whom?

Brihatta Art Foundation seemingly is one of the several attempts across the subcontinent to face the questions head-on and to move ahead, not to seek answers necessarily but to posit the question, contextualise the crisis and reframe the needs of art students, artists, and art teachers in the most viable ways. An initiative like Brihatta primarily reinforces our faith and ability to hope and dream. It also acknowledges right at the outset that online or offline, a collective initiative is the bold writing on the walls. The collective initiative, however, is nothing new. The history of modern art is replete with instances of many instances of collective initiatives emerging as responses to certain crisis at critical junctures of history. Yet, by accommodating the virtual space as the new normal, by opening up interactive spaces at the tap of the finger or the touch of the cursor, collective initiatives have become ever more outward rather than inward. In the previous era, we have seen significant moments of artists' groupings. Now, the ever-increasing possibility is to group out instead of group in. Probably a new concept of the democratic platform is emerging because of these virtual platforms. However, while a certain kind of communication is ensured at the technical level (despite network disruptions often or not so often), the human/psychological aspects need urgent attention as a greater number of people participate on this platform, each with their respective socio-economic dilemma. In other words, the physical location of an institutional space is not and cannot be the same or similar or even equivalent in virtual space. Therefore, what is inevitable in this new situation and particularly within the pedagogical sphere, is severe data processing. If "dataism", as Yuval Noah Harari calls it, happens to be the world power gradually conquering our mind and body, and if dataism happens to be a constant flow of incessant information, then the archetypal pyramidal structure of education has surely crumbled. Hitherto, data was seen as only the first step in a long chain of intellectual activity. Humans were supposed to distill data into information, information into knowledge, and knowledge into wisdom. This paradigm is surely in trouble today.

Even a cursory glance at the way young artists and art students engage themselves with their art practice reveals that a greater portion of their waking and active time is spent on dealing with data, processing them as a system does, behaving like a computer algorithm, as it were. This kind of data-driven engagement, necessarily requiring a speedy internet system, certainly and naturally preconditions our body and mind in a certain way. If you are on your laptop or desktop or mobile phone or a tablet, isn't it true that the very gadget you are using has already dictated your posture, your gaze, your attention and body language? Isn't it true that all the creative visual artists - who by modernist credo

were supposed to be assuming a certain individualism, have begun to look all the same, standardised, regulated, and uniform? No matter where you are, or who you are, or how your creative thoughts might be different from each other? On a personal note, which now has, of course, become a more common experience to many across the world, look at how webinars have standardised and formalised how we should be framing ourselves in front of the webcam and how the "background" matters; in fact, on several occasions, I have seen how the audience is more concerned with the imperfections in the broadcast system or the poor lighting on the speakers' faces or the clumsy background in the frame or the unstable gadget, etc., and how fewer people are talking about the content of the conversation or the talk itself. Evidently, we have slowly learnt to ignore the benchmark of technical perfection and have begun to pay more attention to the real content. See how during the early phase of the lockdown period many of us almost reached the verge of surrendering ourselves to the rule and perfection of technology until sense dawned on us as we turned our faces to the window, looked down through the window grills and saw people, mostly young and the hard-bitten, already on the street asking for a reply to their questions, seeking justice in the real space as opposed to the virtual space.

In such a world, the last thing a teacher, and particularly an art teacher, needs to give the pupils is more information. They already have far too much of it. Instead, people need the ability to make sense of information, to tell the difference between what is important and what is not, and above all, to make sense of a broad picture of the world by being able to discriminate between lie, less lie and some grain of truth. Furious energy of creativity, the ability to move beyond the normative, the urge to challenge the status quo could find an important place in our educational curriculum instead of straitjacketing the entire pedagogic system. Digital platforms, online reach-outs, and virtual art engagement are often prone to that. Technology, rather the same technology that has helped us to stay connected during the times of isolation induced by the pandemic, could also be the reason to standardise our communications, our art, our art history, thereby further distancing us from the kernel of human truth. Perhaps it is suspiciously philosophical, but the kernel has to be a flame, of a real fire.

While the online is an inescapable future, the anxieties will form the new normal. How we, as artists, art-pedagogues, art practitioners, art viewers, art collectors, gallerists, art entrepreneurs, art writers, and art historians, reimagine our existence and the sustaining drives in the wake of the new normal, is only what time can tell. But the strangeness that looms large is also unavoidable as a phenomenon before we even have a look at the clock. The clock has begun to mean or imply something else. Time has shrunk, time has stretched.

Renowned British investigative journalist Carole Cadwalladr, in her 2019 TED Talk, said, "I don't have to tell you that hate and fear are being sown online all across the world. Not just in Britain and America, but in France and in Hungary and Brazil and Myanmar and New Zealand. And we know there is this dark undertow that is connecting us all globally. And it is flowing via the technology platforms. But we only see a tiny amount of what's going on on the surface." We need not overemphasize the fact how true her words have increasingly become. Despite the growing apprehension that we have reached the point where it is now impossible to unbecome that apprehension, the more we feel and get connected, the more we feel the touch of each other in real life, the more we as a collective force, and not as individuals, keep weaving the broader tapestry of life with incredible layers of human experiences, the possibility of unbecoming, the trepidation, will bounce back to our everyday reality.

Lastly, despite all this brainstorming, we are still sailing through in between. The element of uncertainty is undeniable. Recently, Robinson Meyer, in a crisp essay on the latest pandemic strains, writes, "The promise of summer vaccinations means that Americans can confidently plan for the end of the pandemic. The crisis is softening now, and America could crush it by autumn. What happens in between? The pandemic's medium-term future remains the biggest outstanding question: March to May is the mystery." Initiatives like Brihatta Art Foundation emerged, genuinely, to address the in-between, the uncertain phase of life. It is pledged to turn vulnerability into sustainability. The process thus becomes increasingly more significant than the product.

Soumik Nandy Majumdar
Assistant Professor, History of Art
Kala Bhavana
Visva Bharati University