Photos: by Ratheesh Sundaram
By
Shevlin Sebastian
Artist
PV Nandan stares intensely at EG Chithra's sculpture, a
self-portrait. “The eyes look sad, but the lips are determined,”
he says. “There is a coiled energy in the face.” He caresses the
bald head, which is on display at the 'Time Devoured' exhibition,
held recently, at the Durbar Hall Art Gallery in Kochi. “It is an
impressive work,” he says. “Although there are very few women
sculptors in Kerala, Chithra is one of the best.”
Chithra's
work, titled, 'Yes, I believe that this is something special', has a
back story. At 6 p.m., on March 26, last year, she walked into
the Aspinwall House, at Fort Kochi during the Kochi
Biennale. Chithra was wearing a floor-length maroon gown,
held an empty earthen pot in her hands, and had three dolls hanging
on her back. She reached an area where a circle had been marked, with
white chalk, on the ground.
Chithra went
to the centre, and sat on the upturned pot. Then she closed her eyes
for a few moments. Several spectators, many of them foreigners, gazed
at her in silence. The screech of a parrot and the cawing of crows
could be heard. Chithra stood up, took out a pair of
scissors, and proceeded to cut her hair. Soon, thick lockets fell to
the ground.
“I
am a person who has a lot of baggage
from the past – a victim of social conditioning, brainwashed
religious beliefs, unmet expectations, and intense anxieties,”
says Chithra. “As a result, my real self was buried deep
within myself. Through this performance, [called 'Abrecation', which
is a psychoanalytical term, for reliving an experience in order to
purge it of its emotional power], I wanted to move towards freedom.”
Later,
her friends helped her to become completely bald. “After doing the
performance I felt an immense self-confidence,” says Chithra.
A few
months later, she got the idea of doing a sculpture of her bald
head. To make it,Chithra did a life-size
drawing on paper, by looking at the photo taken by her husband on his
mobile phone. Then she made a two-feet high metal structure.
Thereafter, wet clay was pressed onto it. “I did the detailing
of the face at this point,” says Chithra, 30. Soon, a
mould was made, using Plaster of Paris, and this was cast in cement.
Finally, with the help of a spray gun, the chocolate colour was
applied to the face.
Interestingly,
on the back of the sculpture, there is the embedded mark of a plait
of hair. “I just wanted to say that whatever happens in life,
whether good or bad, it leaves a permanent mark on you,” says
Chithra.
She
is also making a mark with her works. But the artist
stumbled on to sculpting by accident. When she applied to do a course
in painting at the RLV College of Music and Fine Arts, in the suburb
of Tripunithara, there were no seats. Instead, there was an opening
in sculpture. So she opted for it and was able to complete the
four-year course.
“I
discovered that I enjoyed sculpting,” she says. “It has given me
so much of pleasure. This could
also be a subconscious reminder of my father, who works as a
carpenter. Maybe, that's why I also enjoy working with my hands.”
But
life is not easy for this full-time artist, whose husband is a
painter. “There are only a handful of artistes in Kerala who can
live by selling their works,” she says. “The works of painters
are not selling, so you can imagine the plight of sculptors.”
She
has been able to make ends meet by being an occasional lecturer on
art at different colleges, including her alma mater, RLV College.
Thus far, Chithra has done about fifteen sculptures. One
eye-catching one is of a woman lying supine, in mid-air, with her
long flowing hair pointing towards the ground.
(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)
No comments:
Post a Comment