Artist Nandini Hasija uses her canvas as a platform for discussing adoption and identity through mark-making, both in 2D and 3D. By Aakriti Narang
What is conventional and what isn’tIJ Who gets to decide all thisIJ Originality is considered as being a plus point but how about unconventionalityIJ Would that be called a skill as wellIJ These are not my questions. Rather, these are the questions that budding artist Nandini Hasija would like to ask her viewers as she celebrates the launch of her first solo exhibition entitled Weaving labyrinths: A Ritual of Mark-Making and Soft Sculptures. The exhibition was made open to public on May 22 and will go on until the end of the month at the Triveni Gallery which is housed inside the Triveni Kala Sangam.
Hasija’s artwork is centred on her identity as an adopted child. Through her 15 pieces of art done in graphite and five sculptures made of jute, she wishes to undo the stereotypes that revolve around adoption in our society. For Hasija, “Identity means having a certain kind of ownership as to how I would like to portray myself and how I would like to be seen. Identity means creating a sense of self that I am comfortable with. All this while, identity was something that had been thrust upon me in the sense of me being an adopted child. The social norm is to not acknowledge adoption. It’s considered as something that should remain hidden.” She believes that by hiding this fact and forcing a veil upon it, we are imposing a connotation of shame on the concept.
She further adds, “The most important reason why I highlighted this issue is because I don’t understand the glorification of naturalism. Our identities are inevitably linked to factors that are sometimes out of our control. If a couple is unable to have a child, then that is not their fault. They shouldn’t be labelled as being incomplete or any less equal to all other married couples with children. On the other hand, if a couple decides not to have a child, that in itself is an expression of their identity. I find it absolutely ridiculous that people are treated unjustly if they do not conform to their gender roles.”
The concept of identity was initially discussed by Austrian psychologist Sigmund Freud. Freud proposed the Oedipus complex in his first book called The Interpretation of Dreams (1899). The name of this complex is derived from one of Greek tragedian Sophocles’ most successful and well-known plays called Oedipus Rex. The Oedipus complex refers to the child’s desire to have sexual relations with the parent of the opposite gender. In this sense, Hasija states with a strong feminist approach, “A girl’s identity is purely based on her equation with the father. A woman’s relationship with another woman is completely disregarded. Women have only existed as wives, sisters and daughters in relation to men. They have never been identified with other women. In my case, my mother never got to experience the process of conception and pregnancy. She met me when I was a few days old. So I wanted to be the first to highlight the significance of a mother-daughter relationship.”
Every artist develops a certain philosophy for himself or herself. In Hasija’s case, she is not particularly interested in a pretty picture. She adds, “I understand that this is an arrogant thought; I’m 22 years old and this is my first exhibition. What really matters for me is the performance; it’s the process of creating the artwork that I relish the most as well as what the artwork can say and do for itself.” As for her inspiration, it comes from human relationships and from the simple equations that we have with one another within the family as well as outside it.
The sculptures were more difficult to create for Hasija, both practically as well as conceptually. She shares, “I wasn’t even going to make sculptures in the first place. I had done a 13-hour performance, in which I had unravelled nine yards of jute strand by strand. The idea behind this was to separate every single strand of jute, thereby, metaphorically, separating slight strands of myself from the totality of my mother’s fabric. After doing this, I ended up having a large amount of jute. Next, I created a handloom using an old canvas frame and a stretcher. I then began weaving the jute back together into fabric. Out of the nine yards of jute, I had woven five yards back together before realising that what I was doing had become an obsession. It was mindless and mechanical, especially since there was no design involved in it. But what would have happen after I had finished weaving itIJ It would lead me to a dead end. I asked myself, ‘how can I take this furtherIJ’ I knew I had to keep the ball rolling and so I tried to figure out what my next step would be. Ultimately, I took those five yards of jute apart, again, and I began to experiment with them. I refused to limit myself to just weaving; instead, I combined it with knotting, binding, knitting and the art of crochet.” Hasija’s reason for creating these sculptures was to encapsulate the bodily nature that she wished to recreate, and which was missing from the dimensional paintings.
Talking about her future endeavours, Hasija has no plans as such but has decided not to restrict herself to the issue of adoption.