The Voorlinden Museum Park in Wassenaar, South Holland, Netherlands. Photo/Rosalyn D’Mello
Since the mission was to take up these notes while living and inhabiting the space with Bhasha and Hania, I thought it would be fruitful to take our child with me. I was attracted by the idea of him being exposed to artists and introducing him to the multifaceted nature of my work. I told him that I was to go on a “study trip” but that this time he could come with me, unlike previous occasions when I left him in the care of his father and grandparents. He is at an age where he has a passion for vehicles and the idea of riding on multiple trains, buses and planes excites him. I took time off from my more regular freelance work so that I could be more attentive and focused and could divide my time between our child and Bhasha and Hania, who were also very busy sorting out so many outstanding details. They had just finished a Mehfil they had organized to showcase their artistic affinities and were preparing for the Open Studio that was scheduled for the day after my arrival.
Most of our conversations took place in the kitchen, and I felt quite lucky to be in such a desi space where there was always leftover rice and dal in the fridge, as well as samosas, chutneys and raitas. Mario, a fabulous curator from Goa, was also there. One afternoon he cooked a shrimp curry rice dish that made me feel right at home. I realised that for the first time since moving to Europe, I was in a space that felt totally brown and desi. Hania even has the same skin tone as me, and I spent so much time marvelling at her beauty that I sometimes wondered if that was how I might appear too! She is taller than me and much slimmer too, but the most fascinating aspect of her appearance is her skin tone. There were many days when Bhasha and Hania would go about their daily work in saris, floating in and out of the house like fairies, appearing luminous and meticulous. I absorbed all this energy as I wandered the lawns, watching over our child who worked with a large tractor and a cart that had been given to him as a toy. I was amazed at how much work these two artists had managed to accomplish since arriving in the space, much of it in the form of music boxes made from second-hand furniture. They had explored Ragamala miniature paintings, pictorial representations of ragas. Bhasha had thought about the Dutch sky and its light and had extracted the skies from the reference paintings and reproduced them on a larger scale with oil paints, her preferred medium. She had simultaneously painted dying tulips in vases, a body of work I loved for the way she seemed to animate their lifelessness, the aura she injected into their wilting, agitated gestures, and the way she revitalized the medium of still life, scraping away parts of their constituent organs to punctuate their figurative contours.
In the meantime, I spent some time alone with my toddler. I took my partner’s advice and skipped Amsterdam altogether. I visited The Hague, Voorlinden – which has this pastoral landscape and a museum where you can just go and visit Yayoi Kusama’s Hall of Mirrors of Infinity without too much trouble – and Delft, a beautiful city not far from The Hague, punctuated by canals and typical Dutch architecture. It was the first time I had travelled to places I didn’t know with my toddler, and it was for me an exercise in letting go of control or any sense of predetermination. If he wanted to take the tram, we did. I decided not to make itineraries but to let our bodies trace our paths. The day before yesterday, I returned home feeling particularly nourished. However, my desire to explore the Netherlands is far from extinguished. I’ll probably find a way to go back.
Rosalyn D’Mello, renowned art critic and author of A Handbook For My Lover, is interested in the life and times of each woman. She tweets @RosaParx
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