Nostalgia and Woody Allen

Have you ever seen the Woody Allen film Midnight in Paris? I saw it with my family when it came out in the theater last year, and wasn’t particularly impressed – I found it very visually compelling and liked the idea of someone going back in time to the “golden era” of Paris (who wouldn’t want to meet F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, and Pablo Picasso?) - but I felt that Woody Allen’s humor was too forced, which ultimately clouded my enjoyment of the film itself. Then last week my friend lent me the movie and I decided to give it another try.

Sometimes you have to see a film (or read a book, etc) at the right time and in the right place for it to have meaning. And somehow, this time, the movie spoke to me in a new way.

Two months ago, I was feeling extremely rooted and present in Bhuj, but for the past few weeks, I have slowly begun to hover above my experience. I am still very much here, yet I occasionally have the distinct feeling that something is askew, like I have stepped backwards out of the scene and become a voyeur, viewing my surroundings through a screen. Then I jolt myself back into the moment.

I think my subconscious is starting to prepare to recontextualize my current experience as memory. Without realizing it I am already selecting experiences to file away for later review, feeling the bubble of nostalgia rise inside me even as I am experiencing something new.

I have begun to have dreams that I am back in the US, confronted with the reality of being home. I will be standing in the cereal aisle in the grocery store, overwhelmed by the brightly colored boxes towering before me, and long for the simplicity of the vegetable stand where I pay 55 rupees for an entire meal’s worth of vegetables and fruits. Or I will step through my front door in Minnesota for the first time in months, ecstatic to see my family and home again, then go up to my bedroom to deposit the relics of India in the emptiness of an unlived-in room. And I will be overwhelmed with an ache in my core, like something inside me has just died. Then I wake up, confused.

Which is real? My experience here and now in Bhuj, or my past and future life in the US?

As I watched Midnight in Paris, what stood out to me this time was not the flashiness or the time travel, it was the idea of escapism and nostalgia. In the movie, the main character, Paul, goes back in time to the “golden era” of Paris, escaping into another world that he considers superior to his own. He slowly separates himself from his present, enveloping himself in that “other” world, even falling in love with a woman of the 1920’s, Ines. At the end (spoiler!), the two go back in time to Ines’ “Golden age” - fin de siècle Paris, the time of Toulouse Latrec and Degas- escaping even further into the recesses of nostalgia. Just as Paul is enticed by the prospect of living in the ‘20s, Ines is drawn to her own version of the nostalgic past. This is when Paul realizes that, basically, no one is ever happy with what they have.

“Nostalgia is denial - denial of the painful present . . . the name for this denial is golden age thinking - the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one one is living in – it’s a flaw in the romantic imagination of those people who find it difficult to cope with the present.”

As I watched, I was struck by the notion that I was Paul – that I am elevating Bhuj and India in my mind as a way of avoiding the painful realities of life in America. Let’s just dismiss the problematic component of me equating Bhuj with the past and America with the present - I recognize and disagree with the colonial implications of saying India is “behind the times”. Instead, let’s focus on the idea of inhabiting multiple worlds, on the idea of nostalgia as a form of escapism.

You might recall an earlier post where I was feeling nostalgic for America. At that moment (which, admittedly, was only a moment) the envelop of “otherness” in Bhuj felt stifling, both because I was overwhelmed by the cultural differences and because I was sick of being objectified as “the American”. I longed to be home, where I could escape into the familiar. At that point, Bhuj was “the present” that felt difficult and America “the past” that felt safe. But somehow in the last few months that has changed.

Now, as I reorganize my brain and Bhuj becomes "the past", a tint of romanticism is beginning to color my perception of life here. Because I am beyond the "basics", having settled into a pace of life in Bhuj that feels comfortable, I can focus on the good stuff. I can revel in the fact that I am always challenged to think in a new way, constantly confronted by surprising cultural similarities and differences. But if I stayed, would that magic be gone? And how much of it is just me "finding it difficult to cope with the present?" aka America?

At home I have to deal with planning for my future, with money, with social and political realities that are very much a part of who I am, not a study in social and cultural difference. I am not a visitor in the US- I am a resident. And that requires a very different kind of responsibility.

In addition, while I have been away many things have changed, and I don’t know quite what I will find or how I will deal with them when I return. I have changed and grown too, and fear that I will lose the things I have gained as soon as my context reminds me who I was before.

But the difference between my situation and Paul’s in the movie is that he is nostalgic for a past that no longer exists. My Bhuj – which is very specific to this moment in time - will no longer exist when I leave, but Bhuj itself – the real Bhuj – will. It will continue to grow and change, just as I will.

At the end of the movie, Paul chooses to return to the present but make changes in his life that reflect the changes in himself. I hope to do the same. I hope to continue seeking environments where I am challenged to think differently. I hope to be an active student of the small moments. And I hope to come back to Bhuj, and to see how both of us have continued to grow. 

Okay Woody, you've won me over on this one.

Crafts in Kutch Part 4 - Little Stitches

Embroidery

Most people think of embroidery when they think of crafts in Kutch. Each of the dozens of communities in the region has a different style, passed down for generations (mostly) from mother to daughter. Particularly in nomadic communities, embroidery serves as a form of wealth that can be transported easily when the community moves. It is also a significant form of wealth brought as dowry when a girl gets married. 

Historically, women embroidered everything from dowry bags to camel belts, but today fewer communities embroider. Some NGOs (such as Qasab, Kala Raksha, and Shrujan) are working to preserve traditional embroidery by hiring women to embroider items that might appeal to a broader audience, like purses and kurtas, using traditional techniques. Khamir doesn't work with embroidery because so many others do.

There are dozens of embroidery styles in Kutch, and you can read a pretty decent description of the communities and different styles here. 

Styles of Embroidery

From December until March, my primary project was working on an exhibition highlighting textiles - mostly embroideries - from Kutch and it's neighbor, Sindh, now in Pakistan. It was a crash course in Kutchi communities, customs, and history. I worked with an excellent team of people composed of the head of my NGO, a recent NID graduate who had studied exhibition design, and A.A.Wazir, a local textile collector, in implementing the exhibition. I loved having people from all over the world come to Khamir to see the exhibition, and even got to practice French with some of them!

I have lots of information leftover from the exhibition, but won't bore you with it. Instead, I will just give you a basic sense of what it contained.

The Exhibition

Room One of the exhibition.

Room Two of the exhibition.

The collector, Wazir-bhai, showing off his pieces.

This is Wazir-bhai's most prized piece, and with good reason. The stitches are RIDICULOUSLY tiny, and it is COVERED in mirrors and thread. We had a representative of the Indian craft division of the government visit, and he said he had never seen anything like it.

This hook embroidery is traditionally done by men - originally shoemakers. Royalty hired them to make beautiful wall hangings like this one, which was either in a palace or taken on hunting expeditions to decorate the tent. You can see the Moghul and Chinese influences in it.

I love this applique quilt cover -- it is so whimsical! I also enjoy the mix of textiles-
mashroo, tie-dye . . . it is clear that the woman who made it recycled her family's old clothes. A note that though elephants are a popular motif in Kutchi and Sindhi textiles, there have never actually been elephants in Kutch. Instead, Rajastani kings riding elephants probably came through the region at some point in history, and the image became integrated into the visual culture. 

This applique bed canopy is covered in sequins, representing stars, and is a design representing the universe. When you are laying and looking up at the canopy you are seeing the night sky. 

Bandhani (tie-dye) is a pretty complicated craft. I have been
working on a piece of my own and it has taken me weeks just to do a small portion.

Kutch Crafts part 3 - Printing with blocks of wood

Ajrakh Block Printing

"Ajrakh" is an Arabic world referring to the moment when the sun hovers on the horizon, and the sky is red, blue, and black dotted with stars.

The artisans of Dhemadka and Ajrakhpur have been making traditional Ajrakh block prints for eleven generations, attempting to capture that moment.

One artisan, Abdul Rauf, told me once that "in order to be a designer, you have to have your eyes open. Nature is a designer, so as an artisan designer you choose to either copy or edit the things you see and the traditions you learn."

Nature is definitely a part of the Ajrakh craft. One artisan told me that the craft was originally developed so that shepherds would stand out against the harsh desert landscapes of Sindh and Kutch, in contrast with the white and brown clothing they had previously worn.

The process involves a lot of water -- specifically, quality water. For this reason, artisans must dig deep into the ground to reach good water sources. With environmental changes in Kutch, however, the water tables are changing, and Dhemadka can no longer sustain the craft. For this reason, the community of Dhemadka decided to build a new village - called Ajrakhpur - closer to the city and near a better water source.

Today there are dozens of block printers in Ajrakhpur, with an increasingly international market. Ajrakh is probably my favorite craft that my organization (Khamir) works with.

The Process

Several villages in Kutch specialize in wooden block-making,
selling to Ajrakhpur, Dhemadka, and elsewhere. 

For every color a different block must be made. The block makers therefore have to
 have a complex understanding of negative space.

That black gunk is actually the resist used to create white spaces on the cloth.
When the cloth is washed, it comes off, leaving the original color underneath.

Colorful dyes waiting to be used.

The artisan uses blocks to create layers of design on long pieces of fabric.
They must be precise and quick.

Adding a layer of color requires matching up the block perfectly on the design.
Some textiles have four or five colors, and many more blocks. You can see the skill as the artisan works. 

On the studio wall in Dhemadka, color has built up over time,
creating what I think is a gorgeous abstract design in itself.

The cloth is dyed with a base color, then cleaned with water.

Drying in the sun - some of these cloths will be further printed or dyed to create even more elaborate designs.

A complete product.

This Ajrakh piece is over a hundred years old and made with natural dyes and traditional blocks
- some still being used today, some have been lost.

On a visit to Dhamadka (the original Ajrakh village), my coworkers and
 I decided to make a handkerchief together - with varying levels of success.
I am responsible for the blocks WAY too close to the edge.

Disha shows off our group effort. We were pretty proud of the design we created in the middle using blocks and my fingertips. You will also notice we signed our names in the corners.

Crafts in Kutch Part 2 - Molding Earth

Pottery

In Hindu mythology, Bhrama, the Creator of the Universe, made a clay model of a human into which he breathed life. For this reason, the Hindu potter is known as Prajapati, meaning the creator of humanity. The Kumbhar (potters’) communities of Kachchh and throughout India have a strong religious connection with their work. They believe that the god Shiv has blessed them with protective fire and a consistent work that will always be enough to sustain their families. Pottery is particularly meaningful to the craftspeople because its creation represents the culmination of all five of the Hindu elements: fire, water, earth, air, and akasha (space).

Crafting earth

Kachchhi potters must have an intimate understanding of the environment for their craft to thrive.  

To collect quality clay, potters in the Banni region travel far into the grassland seeking dense clusters of vegetation. They know that where there are grasses there will be a subterranean water source, and therefore a smooth, quality clay pocket perfect for ceramics. The potters of Tuna near the sea wade directly into the water to collect clay from below their feet. Here the clay is salty and porous, able to hold water and keep it cool.

To obtain the black, red and white clays used both for building and decorating their pots, artisans collect white china clay and mineral-rich red and black clays from specific pockets in the area. The geographic knowledge and ability to assess quality of these sources is passed down from generation to generation.  When the monsoon season begins and clay becomes less accessible, the potters give up their craft temporarily, focusing on seasonal agricultural work.

In its form and practice, the Kachchh pottery craft represents a deep-rooted understanding of the environment as well as representing a model of local, natural, and sustainable craft practice. 

The Process

Sara-bai is the region's most accomplished potter, and when you see her painting skills you understand why. She is also a wonderful person - when I met her she gave me a big hug and smile that made me feel immediately comfortable.

If you have ever done pottery in school, you at least know the basic technique of wheel throwing, What makes the Kachchhi style unique is that they use a stick to turn the wheel by hand like a top.

Firing the pots in a big pit.

Sara-bai's adorable granddaughters on their way to Arabic lessons after school.
(Unrelated, but I had to include this photo)

White, black and red slips are used for decoration. The brushes are all pieces of wood that are frayed at one end.
This is one reason Sara-bai's detailing is so amazing.

Sara-bai paints delicate lines using a thick wooden brush.

I tried painting a scrap with the wooden brushes. SO HARD.
Sara-bai did like my bird motif, though.

Some finished products.

Instead of keeping water in the fridge (which many people don't have), people in Kachchh (and around India)
 keep water in a pot like this. The porousness of the clay keeps the water cool. 

Vendors in Bhuj sell pots on the side of the road. 

Terracotta and the stages of life

In Kachchh, as in other parts of India, pottery plays an important ritualistic role in the cycle of life. Communities use dozens of forms of terracotta to correspond with the different stages of life: clay bowls holding oils, water, leaves, and coconut are used as part of the sixth-day chahti ceremony that marks the birth of a child; small lamps are used daily for ritual pujas;  terracotta of many sizes and shapes are used as part of the marriage ceremony to hold up the wedding canopy and to contain smaller ritual items such as water, rice, oil, ghee, and khum khum (red paste);  the clay is shaped into animals as children’s toys; into lamps for festivals; and into special bowls for use in the death ceremony.

Hindu tradition teaches that porous earthenware absorbs dirt and negative energy.  Rules of ritual pollution therefore require people to discard and replace earthenware during festivals and significant occasions such as births, marriages, and deaths.  As a result of this belief, potters have historically enjoyed a stable local market for their craft.

An Ancient Lineage

Modern Kachchhi pottery traces its roots back thousands of years to the time of the Indus Valley Civilization.  One of the world’s earliest urban civilizations, the Indus Valley Civilization spread across the western region of South Asia (in what are now Pakistan, Eastern Afghanistan, and Northwestern India including Kachchh) from 3300-1300 BCE. The civilization is noted for its architectural accomplishments such as building cities of brick, roadside drainage systems, and multistoried houses, along with a number of handicrafts that include pottery.

Today, the potters of Kachchh continue to practice their craft in much the same way as their geographic ancestors. Collecting clay from pockets in the region, building up pots by hand or on the wheel, and painting their products with motifs passed down through the generations, many modern terracotta pieces reveal the influence of the ancient pottery of the region. At the same time, today’s potters take artistic liberties in order to market to new audiences, creating a variety of products for both the local market and beyond.

Fragment of pottery from Indus Valley Civilization

Painted Pottery Around India

Pottery is one of the most universal of all crafts – terracotta is found on every continent and the craft has been practiced for thousands of years. In India alone there are dozens of pottery styles, forming objects that transgress barriers of caste and religion and are used at every stage of life.

Despite the ubiquitous nature of pottery, only a few regions within India boast the kinds of intricate painting techniques found in Kachchh. In Rajastan, bold blocks of white and red highlight the complicated black designs painted on top. Potters in Himachal Pradesh paint white lines directly onto red surfaces, which become discolored as part of the smoke fire process that defines the region’s work.

In Kachchh, potters paint delicate black and white designs over their red-coated terracotta or red and black designs on white coated pieces.  Many of the motifs are similar to those discovered at Indus Valley Civilization sites in the region such as Dolevida and Lothal, suggesting a remarkable continuity in design passed down from generation to generation.  In addition, the similarities in design among pottery in Northern India and Eastern Pakistan suggest the history of trade and migration that have historically linked these regions.