It was 21st of April, second day of the 67th Annual Exhibition of the College of Art. The details of the art exhibit are secondary and unrelated so I will not go into that.
Mandi House in itself is a pleasant place to be in, and coupled with the pleasant walk from the metro station to the College- the sleekest and grandest of art stretching beyond the gates appeared to me enlivening. Weaving in and out of mounds of sculptures, multi-media, relief works, I stopped, suddenly and literally so, in my tracks in front of a 10-inch sculpture of a woman with wings, titled- I remember thinking, how ironically- ‘Freedom’.
What is it with wings and freedom? No one thinks of the probability of (perhaps invisible but not imaginary) manacles around wrists and ankles. The woman had long and lustrous wings, but her feet were on the ground, her toes curled up as if amidst the struggle of trying to take flight but to no avail. Her shoulder blades were carefully hunched with the efforts, her body beyond the waist huddled up, each of her legs hugging one another desperately.
There was no space for air to help her wings take flight. Which freedom then? The artist had deliberately omitted carving expressions on the woman’s face, the tensed muscles speaking and expressing all there was to say. I wanted to take a picture, but those wings wanted freedom and as my friend very thoughtfully pointed out to me- a picture would only capture and bind them. Therefore I didn’t capture the woman in a picture, but left her quite alive- and still struggling- in the space of my mind.
There were dozens and dozens of female-centric artworks- almost all of them made by female artists- around each gallery: each equally moving and expressing their desire to be heard, in their own unique ways.
As I was nearing the close of my trip to the exhibit I couldn’t help thinking how the sheer number and volume of art being made in this direction points to a saddening scenario; how the shroud over women’s realities has still not lifted; and how this necessitates more art, more voices, more angry screams, more mournful shrieks to be brought out in the public eye, and consequently made to be heard and seen.
This brings me to the latest issue of The Redstockings Chronicle, which is based on the themes of the International Women’s Day. In this issue, we have strived to bring many such voices to the forefront, with student entries from females of different backgrounds and different experiences.
I hope you enjoy reading them!
- Archana Aggarwal, President, RLS
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