Interview: Mridula Koshy

This month’s ELLE has a little piece by me on Mridula Koshy, the author of the short story collection, If It Is Sweet. Koshy is one of the lovely ladies who, as the magazine’s cover puts it, “owns the future”. I interviewed Koshy over email, which can often result in a dry, boring question-and-answer session that leaves you thinking “Blah”. But Koshy’s answers were delightful and since I could only use a tiny bit of what she wrote, here’s the interview, pristine, untweaked and unedited.

Have you always been interested in writing? Was there a time during the cashier-at-KFC to reading-fairy-at-library years that felt like a turning point?

When I was ten I tried to write a story and got stuck on plot. I introduced my characters but could not figure out what came next. I tried again when I was about fifteen. I took a screen writing class and turned out a hackneyed plot – always the thing to do when you have trouble coming up with an original plot.

My plot: an Indian boy raised in America has an identity crisis, travels to the mother country, mistakes the Indian girl he meets there for one that needs rescuing from arranged marriage/her culture (a horrible conflating of the two on my part) and in the resolution of this crisis achieves enlightenment. Except that I couldn’t figure out what enlightenment would look like vis a visthe dilemma of identity.I never finished the screen play. It took me till I was in my mid-thirties to try writing again. I found myself plagued by the same problems with under-developed plots and an over-abundance of unresolved ideas.

The difference was at thirty-five I knew what ailed me and so could grapple with my mess. And I had discipline so that I went at it longer. Perhaps I needed writing like I never had in the past. When I was a child I thought writing was something that just comes to you, a visitation, a miracle, proof of ones genius, a necessarily easy achievement. This is of course a frightening understanding of writing and I am glad I have left it behind me.

Sometime after my third child I found that many of the questions I had been raising with myself, questions of justice and of motherhood – the two are hugely related – could not be answered as I had answered them in the past. It was no longer enough to read other people’s thinking about these questions or to throw myself into activism to see if some internal resolution couldn’t be achieved through working for external change. I turned to writing because it is a purely internal process, one that requires silencing all the noise and chatter till all that is left is my own voice.

Nicked via Google Image Search.

How did “If It Is Sweet” come about? Did you have any expectations when it was published?

When the noise and chatter gave way I wrote. That took about three plus years. But after I wrote I needed my writing to enter the noise and chatter. For me a conversation with the self is valuable only if it can result in a conversation with others. I expected the book would open the door to my entering the on-going conversation in India, that conversation in which we struggle to understand who we are. I have been more than amply rewarded in this respect although distribution of the book sucks and more people fan me on face book than read my book and oh so many other grouses.

Do you think being ambitious is important?

My oldest son, Saleem is fourteen, and wishes these days to be a writer. I talk to him about the importance of ambition. By ambition I don’t mean the ambition to become famous, which is only marginally related to the ambition to finding ones audience, and not at all related except antithetically to the ambition to find oneself. Writing is on the verge of becoming a disgraced profession because of the increasing emphasis on writing as a means to celebrity. On the other hand there is hardly any activity from cooking to sex that isn’t a means to achieving celebrity. So there are no honourable professions left. This is America’s rather nasty contribution to global culture. Our acquiescence is of course our own. And back to ambition: yes, of course it important to be ambitious about writing from your deepest discomfort with yourself. When I was anunion organizer my mentor in the movement taught me,“if you’re comfortable, you aren’t organizing.”

Do you have any rituals related to writing?

I like to write where I can see people. When I wrote in my barsati office in Delhi I would get up from my seat and go peer over the parapet to make certain the world, or rather people, were still there. Again, there is nothing like spending time with myself to make me realize how much I long for the company of others.

Do personal experiences impact your storytelling?

Yes, I am afraid it is all autobiographical. I have fallen in love with koodawallahs, lost my babies in many different ways, in child birth, in car wrecks, I have also lost my sister and just about everyone else I have ever loved. I have been afraid to love because of the hideously long string of losses.

And I lost a payal in the bushes once because it is so much more romantic to lose a payal than an Anne Klein watch given to me by my mother. And I whispered to a boy in those same bushes and then I never saw him again, well after first seeing him for a couple more years, and later I was an old woman hauled to Bhutan by my monkey companion.

Yes, really.

The koodawallah, yes.Once he was French. And many other times, many others besides.

Are there any downsides to being an author?

Sometimes I am tense from needing life to go away. So I can write. My life is of course my children. Thus: “If you would only make your bed and put away the dishes and hang up your pyjamas instead of draping them on the sofa and clip your fingernails because your tabla teacher told you only a week ago that your fingernails were too long. And if he wasn’t being polite he would have told you how disgustingly dirty they are. And I was so embarrassed for you. For me. And it’s been a whole week since. And have you clipped them? And if you would only…then I could go write.”

This doesn’t make me a good mother. Then I get depressed about my failure to be a good mother. Usually by then a good two weeks have elapsed and I have managed to write something.And I can tell myself to start over again.

Why do you think fiction is important?

It makes life worth living, even a shitty life; it hints at the truth there is something greater out there.

Do all the doomsday commentaries about people reading less worry you?

I haven’t been tuning in. I need to. There is so much to worry about and so little time in which to do it. Mostly I worry about how little I read these days.

Can you tell us a little bit about the novel you’re working on?

I have a novel forthcoming from Harper Collins India. I wish I could come up with less painfully awkward titles. But if you look at the course I have taken, from If It Is Sweet to Not Only The Things That Have Happened, you’d have to conclude I am nothing if not painfully awkward. And not necessarily lovable for it.

But the title is warranted. It is a painful story: a woman relinquishes her four year old son to a tourist couple passing through her town. Thirty six years later, in the thirty six hours that is the present tense of the novel, she dies having never set eyes on him again, and he lives, a forty-year old man at odds with the fragments of his past he remembers, or mis-remembers, he is not sure which. I suppose the only thing more painful than a mother losing her child is a society that wrests a child from its mother.I am curious about the two societies I write about in Not Only The Things That Have Happened – Kerala and the Midwestern United States.


Interview: Rashid Rana

I wrote a short piece on Pakistani artist Rashid Rana for the February issue of Vogue India. Rashid, being the articulate sort, gave me a solid and lengthy interview of which about 1% was used in the final piece. So here’s the interview in its entirety. It’s long, but it’s a good read.

From Dis-Location, by Rashid Rana
DP: What are the works that you will be showing in Mumbai? Have they been shown anywhere earlier?
RR: Majority of the works in the show will be new works (with a few earlier works). These works will be both 2-dimensional and 3-dimensional but almost all of them will be photo based.

DP: In recent works, you seem to be moving towards three-dimensionality. Do you find two-dimensionality less interesting now? You’ve spoken about how the history of photography played an important part in spurring your interest in using photography in your works. Is there something that turned your attention to three-dimensionality?

RR: After receiving my initial training as a painter, I still find myself working from the premise of one. I find the history of two-dimensional image making really fascinating; in fact it provides the basic fuel for my practice in general. My interest in the formal concerns to do with two-dimensional space, which manifests in my work first as a grid and then later as matrix of pixels, is central to my practice. In the last 8 to 10 years, my painting evolved into works involving photography as a medium/tool. Some of these photo based works started becoming somewhat 3-dimensional in the recent years. For example “Offshore Accounts – 1, 2006”, “Copyright Violation of a Stock Photo, 2007” and “News-Archive Video-Still of Dead Birds Flying, 2007” tend to be 3-dimensional whereas “Desperately seeking Paradise” and photo sculptures produced from 2007 t0 2010 are completely 3-dimesnional in nature but conceptually are an extension of explorations into two-dimensional space. In these works, photography is no longer just a tool but a subject also.
I am using photography as a theme in my photo-sculptures. Today, I feel Photo-realism is much underrated. Artists such as Cindy Sherman have used photography to liberate it from the purpose of merely documenting; equipping it with the kind of complexity we associate with painting. We can’t deny the fact that digital technology has opened up an entire frontier in the same way photography catalysed change over 150 years ago. I feel there’s still unexplored potential in photography as a subject. It is still used to document light and colour – which started by early Renaissance painters – to create the illusion of space on a flat surface, but I want to explore how two-dimensional documentation, taken from various viewpoints, can be assembled and reassembled. I do not intend to expand the possibilities of photography per se, but to actually expose its limitations. For example, the light recorded in photographing an object from various angles is always going to contradict the actual light in the space where a photo-sculpture will be displayed, no matter how carefully you coordinate the light and dark values on the object itself. David Hockney gave his translation of this Cubist agenda using photo media. Photo sculptures add a third dimension to this exploration. To date I have chosen objects that are both familiar and impartial, at least at first glance.

DP: The idea of perspective is something that has surfaced in many of your works. In three-dimensional works, the artist has far less control about the perspective from which a work is seen. In a sense, the artist has to give up some control whereas in two-dimensional works, the artist decides what a viewer sees and how they see it. How important is the idea of control to you as an artist?

RR: Yes, two-dimensionality and three-dimensionality separates the control but even within the two-dimensional practices there is a divide of control or less control if we compare the occidental and oriental history of painting especially from 16th century onwards.  European painting since renaissance and until late 19th century relies heavily on the use of illusionistic space mainly achieved through mechanical perspective. Whereas, other non- European cultures during the same time deliberately did not want to create the illusionistic space, instead they wanted to create a flat or suggestive space on a two dimensional surface. This is a major divide between historical comparison of painting between ‘East and West’ (terms which are no longer applicable the way the used to be). With this understanding in the beginning of my career, I was intentionally trying to create paintings with depth within the very two-dimensionality (used only/literally horizontal and vertical lines to form grid painting from early 1990s).
But later on, realizing that world was becoming smaller day by day and the usual divide of east and west was no longer their in the same fashion, I became more relaxed about the use of space in my two-dimensional works. In one sense the photo images that I use in my work do have a definite illusionistic space captured through the use of camera (whether it’s the macro image or the micro images) but when the viewer is standing at a distance where you can neither comprehend the macro image and nor micro images, the image tends to be a flat pixelated surface without any illusionistic depth. Therefore, I can say that space in my photo-mosaic works is somewhere in between the post-Renaissance artist and Oriental artist. So, I acknowledge both — an illusionist (controlled) space and flat (not so controlled space).

DP: Is the challenge of a new medium important to you?

RR: No. Only if the medium has to play an active role in translating ideas/concerns I am dealing with. My practice has gradually become idea-led in the last few years. It’s the idea or concerns, which directs the way to the kind of execution but once a choice of medium and way of execution becomes clearer then medium acquires central role. But it’s not similar to how a solitary space artist would approach the medium. I do not mind outsourcing certain aspects of making my work. In other words it’s not my main objective to take the challenge of mastering a new medium. Translating my ideas in the best possible to producing them visually through whatever means is my objective. Having said that, I do not mind acquiring new skills wherever necessary, in order to start thinking in that medium, but I do not necessarily go for mastering them as there are so many mediums and tools out there to be mastered. And for an artist who is open to changing medium every now and then to suit his/her concerns it would be almost impossible to master techniques every time. Although at times it’s important to learn a medium just enough so that you can think and visualize the work in it, even if the work has to go through an artist supervised outsourcing.  In short, I am some where between a solitary space artist and an artist who relies on an assembly-line-art-making process.

DP: Do you feel painting is losing in popularity to newer media like video and photography?

RR: I don’t think it’s a popularity factor — it’s to do with the boundaries of Art. Newer media overlap and give artist the leeway to create interdisciplinary works. Although, theoretically for the masses both video and photography are more relatable then conventional media as they experience still and moving images in their lives on daily basis but (from my experience) I think its photo-based works that majority of the audience tend to engage with more than video art. Long duration videos are often not watched for the full duration by most of the audience. But these are all generalizations, at the end of the day each individual works sets its on criteria (with all its ingredients and details) how it should be judged and what it offers to a viewer, regardless whether its painting or video. Just using newer tools and mediums does not ensure that the work will be good.

DP: Can you see yourself returning to painting?

RR: Although I enjoy the broad label of ‘visual artist’ and float between different media, but at the same time I like to believe that I am still painting (with photo based techniques). But if you are specifically asking whether I would make use of paints in my work ever again, in that case I would like to say that the day I find a reason for paint to be used as active player in the content of my work, rather than a passive tool to be manipulated for representational image making alone, then I would use it again for sure.
DP: You’ve been a curator and a teacher, alongside being an artist. Do you find it easy to play all these roles? How does the curator and teacher in you judge the artist Rashid Rana?
RR: Ha! The teacher in me makes life for the artist very difficult. But it helps as I push myself to the maximum. Having said that I would like to add that we cannot just imitate a model from other parts of the world- Specific reasons are there for artists from south Asia (Pakistan in particular) to get into multiple roles. Yes, I have been a full time artist and teacher but I won’t really call myself a curator as I have only done a couple of projects and that too relied heavily on my experience as an artist and teachers in the way I approached those curatorial projects.

DP: What do you think the role of art is in society, if any? Does it need to have a role?

RR: The role of art in society is what it was since the beginning — we reflect ourselves, our time through art. Yes, society keeps changing so what art has to say changes but it’s role, I don’t think so.

DP: What made you want to be an artist and convinced you to persevere with art before you became successful?
RR: It’s a slightly long story. The abridged version is that I ended up at an art school though by choice, but incidentally (like many other things in life). While studying there I gradually discovered that ‘art’ is what I can do better than other things such as cricket or acting.

DP: Would you say your personal life is reflected in any way in your art?

RR: Yes, but not always in a very direct or obvious way.

DP: A lot of your work has a strong base in liberal ideology. Would you describe your work as political? Personally, I’m wary of using that word because the ideas in a political rarely seem to connect with the notion of ideology.

RR: I am interested in political issues and they do play some part or the other in recent works of mine but I would definitively not call my work political or ‘political art’. I’d like to hope that my work not be seen through pigeonholes. there is a sense of fluidity that I try to achieve through my concepts. Trying to break these boundaries of categorizing art which helps people understand it more —where as for me it’s not about the politics, the gender or history — (I hope) it’s beyond that.

DP: Have the recent events in Pakistan and changes in attitudes towards Islam had any impact, direct or indirect, upon your works? Is it possible to remain unaffected by them?
RR: It’s not possible to remain unaffected whether one chooses to avoid them from reflecting in their work or not. They also affect my work in an indirect manner.
Subjects and issues in regions, which have gone through colonization, are more complex than other places. Therefore, I agree that it is complicated to deal with or balance certain phenomenon. But my work is about addressing some representations-related aspects of this complexity.

DP: The theme of identity is something that you’ve explored both directly and indirectly in many works.
RR: The theme of identity ……I tried many a times but I could not escape it. So I have realised that the broader identity is worth exploring, as we get to question all sorts of notions around us and within us. We should look at the artist as a creative practitioner, who are from certain regions yes, but essentially are individuals. In the ’90s being an artist in Pakistan, I faced this question in a big way but now I don’t think it’s such a burden.
In 2000, I made a work titled:  “What is so Pakistani about this painting?”. The title itself is inscribed in the work, and is perhaps the most ‘Pakistani’ thing about this work. The idea of dealing with the issue of identity has become the new identity. Identity — if it’s not national it’s regional or gender related or religious —even when we deny it, it is acceptance in one way. Then we have another type of identity altogether, the self or visual personas. I have dealt with this kind too in a work titled “Identical Views” where I merely am changing clothes to alter my physical identity.

DP: How important do you think it is for South Asian artists to be innovative by Western art historical standards? Do you think it’s fair to say that there is now a tradition of modern art in South Asia?

RR: In one sense we live in small world. Therefore I am against unnecessary boundaries. I believe in universality that does not dismiss individual specificities. I do not agree with the notion that there is a tradition of modern art now in South Asia. On the contrary, I would like to believe that historically South Asian art has never been modern in the Western sense of the word. What is often referred to as ‘modern art in south Asia’ has characteristics of post-modern. it does not believe in absolute originality. It refers to past and uses cultural specificities (though often in a contrived and superficial manner) that makes it dissimilar to ‘modern art’ produced in the same era, in west.
DP: Does the category South Asian art make sense to you or do you feel that it forcibly yokes together artistic traditions that don’t actually have much in common beyond geography?
RR: Yes, when we talk about South Asian art we keep in mind the elements of the Occident inherently. Then we accept that our past is connected beyond South Asia through various influences and so is our present due to globalization. I feel it’s alright to embrace the term South Asian art but I do also believe that one should not use this term loosely and force redundant stylistic concerns into their work. So, perhaps “Art from South Asia” is a better premise than “South Asian Art”.

DP: As someone who has been both an artist and an art educator, what would you say is of critical importance for this region’s art to develop?

RR: Get over superfluous stylistic concerns (which as of the past 5 years has occurred) and embrace the time we are from and push the boundaries for ourselves to create work that is not about using old techniques for the sake of branding ourselves to sell to the western viewer. A long term interest in art produced from this region can be sustained only through ensuring that all disciplines and institutions of present day infrastructure of an art scene are flourishing simultaneously. It means that besides patronage, (in the form of money flowing into the art scene from various sources that can temporarily result in success of individual artists in a given time) a growth in disciplines and institutions such as such as ‘art criticism’ and ‘art academia’ is equally important.