I sculpted this self-portrait at the start of lockdowns in 2020. It’s not a pretty thing. Raw. Quiet. Made from clay collected on the banks of Kalighat, rough and mottled with patches of brown silt.
Last year I spent endless hours sitting in this exact position, watching out barred windows for any hint of movement to unfold: kites floating above rooftops with the occasional entanglement with power lines, food wagons with fish so fresh the seller thwapped wriggling bodies on the cement to stun them before cleaning, or the parade of geese that would sometimes wander down my dead end alley for a feast of breadcrumbs.
I’m nearing the one-year mark at this new (old) house which was to be my escape from those months of urban isolation. The past 10 weeks have been under a new round of state lockdowns…a lot more lenient than before but still restrictive. Lately it seems I’ve been questioning a lot in terms of how and where and when to move forward. The dreams and ideas I once had don’t seem as feasible anymore (though dreams never *should* seem feasible).
How about you? How are you doing? How’s life where you are and what are you thinking about these days?
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