The Fuschia Tree
Editor's Note.
There is a variety of laughter: chuckles, sniggers, grins, smirks, giggles, smiles, hysterical roaring, screaming, chortling, sneering, guffawing, tittering, crying.
What makes something funny? Paradoxically, the thing that makes us laugh is most likely lonely, dark, ironic, abnormal, absurd, causing the human body to loop and curl in ways that shift its centre of gravity, and the human mind to twist and turn in ways that ostracize it from society and law.
Read More
 
By Avni Doshi
It is a strange experience to be truly alone. Especially when everyone is watching.

To be alone is generally to have the finger of ridicule pointed at you. To be floating adrift like an island without anchor often means the eyes of conquistadors are upon you.

Sarnath Banerjee interjects humor through language and image into the idea of the solitary self with his series Temporary Autonomous Zones. The work was made with Gabriel García Márquez in mind, whose stories are activated through fantasy rather than fact. While in One Hundred Years of Solitude individuals are liberated from the perceived order through the lens of magic, Banerjee turns to solitude as an antidote to repression. It is in quite moments, often comical and unrehearsed, that epiphanies emerge.

Also in this issue

  • the thickness of the objects, he says, and the thinness of writing, the don't touch signs proclaiming the desire to touch in galleries, I said, and the drops of dal on writing, the don't touch signs proclaiming the desire to
    Read More
  • We are cautious and self-aware, and our risks are safe ones: no one has slammed the proverbial (or actual) dead parrot against a shop desk, insisting it’s still alive, for a few decades now.
    Read More
  • Her giant plastic head with large, tear-shaped eyes and no mouth (voice) reveals, beneath the humor, a grim outlook on a world where it is difficult to be oneself.
    Read More

Illusion: Seeing Beyond Seeing
Meaning: In Search of Significance.
Melody: A Different Tune
Rhythm: Ordering Time

Dhrupadi Ghosh is an old friend of mine. We have often had long sessions of adda late at night, discussing her dream projects since her college days at Santiniketan, where she majored in Sculpture.