Bodies click. Bodies swivel. Creep out. Or spill.
Wounds flicker, alight paleness. Register painless.
Did I breathe in another’s memories, mistaking them for my own?
Shored against silent stones. Amidst cobwebbed corners.
In between the warbled call of a nameless river.
The mind is a glove that holds. Protects. Conceals.
Yesterday, I reached out and touched the soil inside my skin
and I blazed and I burned.
I. A whimsical caricature of myself. A some body.
Maybe I returned.
Home is a cryptic poem
that no one comprehends.
Do bodies belong? Or does embodiment splinter a whole into irreparable fractures? Were we born dismembered? Are we destined to be incomprehensibly disfigured? Who – and what – deserves the dignity of being a body? Some body? No body? Every body? This exhibition attempts to read into bodies – human bodies, natural bodies, man-made bodies – to decrypt that fundamental question about what it means to be human and whether this sense of being is rooted in the material world. The earth emerges as a prot/antagonist in this story of self, a playground where we make play, chart meaning.
Manantuna Jyapoo, Anjila Manandhar, Shreeti Pradhan, Bunu Dhungana