Kopai
"Life in Santiniketan" series 1/ 8
Natural Color from Clay, Fruit, Leaf, and Flower
Suwanya Saksombat
"Life in Santiniketan" series 1/ 8
Natural Color from Clay, Fruit, Leaf, and Flower
Suwanya Saksombat
local art circumstance / mediums
Here!! There are folk artists and wandering minstrels, tribal traditions of handicraft, academic artists/musicians/performers from the University, students and professors and guests, farms and ashrams for intentional living, designers and entrepreneurs. All in a 5 mile radius. No matter the genre/affiliation, the place is teeming with collaborators of all kinds – thrilled to share any creative pulse.
- + clay, ceramic, mud, dung, metal, wax casting, embossed leather, kantha embroidery, muslin weaving, jute weaving, rice stalk weaving, natural dyes and indigo, batik, coconut work, furniture, wood carving, house painting, plein air painting... +
stories!
Context Essays
by Lavrenty Repin
by Lavrenty Repin
THE HOUSE
We were chased by massive spiders who ignored our eviction notices, and by swarms of mosquitoes, we struggled to get the water pump a'pumping, while dealing with the caving in first floor that bent the floor into a U shape. But through restoration, frustration and imagination we are slowly transforming one another.
The traditional house that could hold a family of ten comfortably, has become acquainted with our unorthodox antics, and we have learned to respect its age (60+ y/o) and maturity. Up front a tea stall opens into the paved road, and sometimes we brew tea here for passer-by's. As you enter there is a courtyard with the ghorughor (cowshed) where one day we hope to hold screenings or milk cows. There is a second door that leads into a courtyard, which, like in Rome or Japan, is the soul and center of the home. Here grow delicious mango and coconut trees, the medicinal Neem tree and the sacred Sandalwood.
The bathroom is separate from the house and in the night you run through rain to reach it. Another gate will lead you into the backyard pond which we share with four other homes; it is strewed with plastic and refuse, but with your help this pond might see better days soon! If you leave this door open friendly dogs will pop by for leftover cuddles. We've built a pizza oven in the yard, and the garden should now be in bloom. The water pump is your lifeline, so keep it happy. If you turn around, to the left are two concrete rooms, a semi-outdoor ranaghor (kitchen) and storeroom. Straight ahead you enter the mud house, first a little hallway, then a little bigger hallway, on the right a library and art supply room, next to it the textile studio and bedroom and next door the recording studio and thakurghor (god-house). Take the tiny curving stairway upstairs, and enjoy the view, the privacy and the bird songs. Here are two more rooms currently waiting for your imagination to fill them, and the whole house too is in eager anticipation to be rearranged and reignited by your beautiful creativity!
The traditional house that could hold a family of ten comfortably, has become acquainted with our unorthodox antics, and we have learned to respect its age (60+ y/o) and maturity. Up front a tea stall opens into the paved road, and sometimes we brew tea here for passer-by's. As you enter there is a courtyard with the ghorughor (cowshed) where one day we hope to hold screenings or milk cows. There is a second door that leads into a courtyard, which, like in Rome or Japan, is the soul and center of the home. Here grow delicious mango and coconut trees, the medicinal Neem tree and the sacred Sandalwood.
The bathroom is separate from the house and in the night you run through rain to reach it. Another gate will lead you into the backyard pond which we share with four other homes; it is strewed with plastic and refuse, but with your help this pond might see better days soon! If you leave this door open friendly dogs will pop by for leftover cuddles. We've built a pizza oven in the yard, and the garden should now be in bloom. The water pump is your lifeline, so keep it happy. If you turn around, to the left are two concrete rooms, a semi-outdoor ranaghor (kitchen) and storeroom. Straight ahead you enter the mud house, first a little hallway, then a little bigger hallway, on the right a library and art supply room, next to it the textile studio and bedroom and next door the recording studio and thakurghor (god-house). Take the tiny curving stairway upstairs, and enjoy the view, the privacy and the bird songs. Here are two more rooms currently waiting for your imagination to fill them, and the whole house too is in eager anticipation to be rearranged and reignited by your beautiful creativity!
THE VILLAGE
TALTOR (place of coconut trees)
Your neighbors are very sweet women and girls, can you speak their language? Will you learn? They poke their heads over the shared wall in back and teach you how to make rings from a flower in bloom. Leaving the front door open is an invitation to meet the whole village, whose curiosity is only surpassed by their smiles. The village dog, Bulu may pop in; he is very proud of the collar around his neck.
Across the road is the oldest shop in the village (one of three or four today), and I would trust the man who runs it with my right arm. He brings talerrosh (palm-tree juice/liquor) in the mornings. Here the fields stay green all year through thanks to the close proximity of the poetic Kopai river. A little ways down the road forks, taking the left brings you into the heart of the village and toward the river.
Once upon a time this may have been a Santhali tribal village, but today there are temples in every corner dedicated to most major Hindu gods, and the sun never sets without an accompanying din of bells and conch-shells. You can observe all the major Hindu festivals without leaving the village! To the right you'll reach the old Rajbari (King's house) that belonged once to a wealthy Zamindar (landowner); it's a mesmerizing stage! You are but a 25 minute cycle ride away from the Visva-Bharati University campus, 20 minutes from the Deer Park forest, 20 minutes from an ancient shrine to Goddess Kali, Kankalitala one of the 51 Sakthi Peeths, or 20 minutes from Prantik railway station where British-era wagons will take you anywhere you like!
Your neighbors are very sweet women and girls, can you speak their language? Will you learn? They poke their heads over the shared wall in back and teach you how to make rings from a flower in bloom. Leaving the front door open is an invitation to meet the whole village, whose curiosity is only surpassed by their smiles. The village dog, Bulu may pop in; he is very proud of the collar around his neck.
Across the road is the oldest shop in the village (one of three or four today), and I would trust the man who runs it with my right arm. He brings talerrosh (palm-tree juice/liquor) in the mornings. Here the fields stay green all year through thanks to the close proximity of the poetic Kopai river. A little ways down the road forks, taking the left brings you into the heart of the village and toward the river.
Once upon a time this may have been a Santhali tribal village, but today there are temples in every corner dedicated to most major Hindu gods, and the sun never sets without an accompanying din of bells and conch-shells. You can observe all the major Hindu festivals without leaving the village! To the right you'll reach the old Rajbari (King's house) that belonged once to a wealthy Zamindar (landowner); it's a mesmerizing stage! You are but a 25 minute cycle ride away from the Visva-Bharati University campus, 20 minutes from the Deer Park forest, 20 minutes from an ancient shrine to Goddess Kali, Kankalitala one of the 51 Sakthi Peeths, or 20 minutes from Prantik railway station where British-era wagons will take you anywhere you like!
THE TOWN
SANTINIKETAN (abode of peace)
The history of Santiniketan is as complicated as the Poet who started it, but here is an impressionistic attempt:
One day, en route to a meditation retreat in the Himalaya's, and contemplating complete renunciation of social life, family and possession Debendranath Tagore halted in Bolpur, a town probably named after human body (bol-body) sacrifices that were purported to have happened here around the 18th century, and made his way toward the Kopai river. Here the land was barren, dry red sand and shrubs, punctured, here and there by enormous Banyan trees with root strands hanging down like silk hair. Debendranath Tagore sat down under one such tree to meditate, and something prompted in him then a change of ambition. Shortly after, Debendranath bought the wasteland from a local Zamindar (whose ruined house is a few minute;s walk from Hihiri Pipiri!).
When Rabindranath Tagore, was ten years old, his father took him for the first time to this strange part of Bengal, in expectation, the young child held his eyes shut during the train journey from Kolkata so that he could see the enchanted land with fresh eyes. It was perhaps the unlikely circumstance of the Babu caught between the British pot of (indigo) gold and the spiritual rhythm of his homeland that produced the genius Rabindrath Tagore.
Tagore took his fathers desolate land and used his Nobel prize winnings to start an ashram – intentional community – inviting all those he met in his world travels, masters of craft, humanists, agriculturalists, to begin a passive universal resistance that tried to transcend the politics of a drawn out revolution. With only a handful of students, the ashram had a humble beginning, but quickly developed a reputation among prominent Indian artists and reformists, many of whom, like the painter Nandala Bose, took up a teaching position in the frontier town.
For a time, the cream-of-the-crop of Indian visual art was in Santiniketan. The experimental educational approach encouraged by Tagore focused on an honest relationship between the teacher and their students, alike to the ancient Gurukula schools, an intimate relation with nature, classes initiated outside under large Peepal and Banyan trees, and the cultivation of imagination and natural learning, instead of reliance on textbooks. This directly subverted one of the most persistent weapons of the colonial regime; standardized (usually missionary) education. With time, Santiniketan became both an avant-garde space and a respected seat of intellectual power; Tagore received many distinguished guests, including Gandhi, and the cultivation of an independent cultural identity made the town a forbearer to India's independence.
Flanked on one side by the bustling Bolpur, and on the other by a plethora of nucleus villages, whose history refuses dating, there is much folk fusion, much soul-searching and ancient music that fills ever street and field, especially in the enchanted nighttime, when fireflies flock, and the day's work is over...
Santiniketan is somehow an orphaned child with many friends from whom it learns as much as it teaches, whose identity is always tug-of-war between its simple heritage and its international ambitions.
The history of Santiniketan is as complicated as the Poet who started it, but here is an impressionistic attempt:
One day, en route to a meditation retreat in the Himalaya's, and contemplating complete renunciation of social life, family and possession Debendranath Tagore halted in Bolpur, a town probably named after human body (bol-body) sacrifices that were purported to have happened here around the 18th century, and made his way toward the Kopai river. Here the land was barren, dry red sand and shrubs, punctured, here and there by enormous Banyan trees with root strands hanging down like silk hair. Debendranath Tagore sat down under one such tree to meditate, and something prompted in him then a change of ambition. Shortly after, Debendranath bought the wasteland from a local Zamindar (whose ruined house is a few minute;s walk from Hihiri Pipiri!).
When Rabindranath Tagore, was ten years old, his father took him for the first time to this strange part of Bengal, in expectation, the young child held his eyes shut during the train journey from Kolkata so that he could see the enchanted land with fresh eyes. It was perhaps the unlikely circumstance of the Babu caught between the British pot of (indigo) gold and the spiritual rhythm of his homeland that produced the genius Rabindrath Tagore.
Tagore took his fathers desolate land and used his Nobel prize winnings to start an ashram – intentional community – inviting all those he met in his world travels, masters of craft, humanists, agriculturalists, to begin a passive universal resistance that tried to transcend the politics of a drawn out revolution. With only a handful of students, the ashram had a humble beginning, but quickly developed a reputation among prominent Indian artists and reformists, many of whom, like the painter Nandala Bose, took up a teaching position in the frontier town.
For a time, the cream-of-the-crop of Indian visual art was in Santiniketan. The experimental educational approach encouraged by Tagore focused on an honest relationship between the teacher and their students, alike to the ancient Gurukula schools, an intimate relation with nature, classes initiated outside under large Peepal and Banyan trees, and the cultivation of imagination and natural learning, instead of reliance on textbooks. This directly subverted one of the most persistent weapons of the colonial regime; standardized (usually missionary) education. With time, Santiniketan became both an avant-garde space and a respected seat of intellectual power; Tagore received many distinguished guests, including Gandhi, and the cultivation of an independent cultural identity made the town a forbearer to India's independence.
Flanked on one side by the bustling Bolpur, and on the other by a plethora of nucleus villages, whose history refuses dating, there is much folk fusion, much soul-searching and ancient music that fills ever street and field, especially in the enchanted nighttime, when fireflies flock, and the day's work is over...
Santiniketan is somehow an orphaned child with many friends from whom it learns as much as it teaches, whose identity is always tug-of-war between its simple heritage and its international ambitions.
THE STATE
Probably more than any other state in India, Bengal presents vividly the evidence of intensive, uninterrupted agriculture. The basin of the Ganges river which periodically changes her direction in the plains, is considered to hold the world's most fertile soil, and consequently the people of Bengal have cultivated here, first yam, later rice, for at least three thousand years. This is why in central Bengal, in any direction you happen to look the landscape will present neither hill nor hemlock, remaining eternally flat until it merges with the horizon.
Only in the far North do the mighty Himalayas begin, while in the extreme South, the world's largest river delta splinters into a mangrove forest. Historically Bengal was always on the outskirts of empires and kingdoms, providing for the nutritional needs of the population, it has seen comparatively less conflict. Once a waterway to South East Asia, this is where the last remaining Indian Buddhist monks found refuge until the Mughal invasion. Also prominent is the tantric worship of the mother goddess Kali, probably of tribal origin (the Santhalis are the largest remaining tribal population worldwide); 11 of the 51 Shakti Peeths, cremation ground shrines where rituals of a secret and dark nature are practiced, are found in Bengal proper alone.
Today Bengal remains a festive state, the Durga Puja in October is the most popular festival, while the Dharma Puja, held on a March/April full moon is probably the most interesting; yet on any given month smaller festivals continue.
Only in the far North do the mighty Himalayas begin, while in the extreme South, the world's largest river delta splinters into a mangrove forest. Historically Bengal was always on the outskirts of empires and kingdoms, providing for the nutritional needs of the population, it has seen comparatively less conflict. Once a waterway to South East Asia, this is where the last remaining Indian Buddhist monks found refuge until the Mughal invasion. Also prominent is the tantric worship of the mother goddess Kali, probably of tribal origin (the Santhalis are the largest remaining tribal population worldwide); 11 of the 51 Shakti Peeths, cremation ground shrines where rituals of a secret and dark nature are practiced, are found in Bengal proper alone.
Today Bengal remains a festive state, the Durga Puja in October is the most popular festival, while the Dharma Puja, held on a March/April full moon is probably the most interesting; yet on any given month smaller festivals continue.
THE CITY
For the British the East coast of India was the point of access to the sub-continent, and it is around one such Sakthi Peeth called Kalighat, that the East India Company first developed the town of Calcutta. As British influence, trade and commerce expanded, the city became the cultural, intellectual and economical center of the Raj (King), adored with the best architecture, the first Hindoo College catered to the sons of wealthy Indian “Babu” merchants, the Asiatic Society worked tirelessly translating ancient sanskrit manuscripts and redefining Indian history, the international port gave rise to a whole new cuisine, reinventing Chinese meals into high-calorie fast food for the potters, while Sona Gachi became Asia's largest red light district; the city was a cosmopolitan melting pot, and a playground for the rich.
The first partition of Bengal was in part a political move to check the potential of revolt that was brewing in the state, as the Bengali art renaissance and independence movement heightened that possibility, the state was divided into West and East Bengal. Later in the North West a new state, Bihar, was formed, and the British capital shifted to New Delhi. 50 years later, East Bengal, sharing a history and a language, became, overnight, East Pakistan, and a mass exodus of people from either side ensued. Cut off from the economical and state center of Pakistan, East Pakistan inevitably became an Independent country in 1970, which prompted a second refuge crisis, millions fled Bangladesh, leaving behind property and belongings, their presence is still felt today in the overcrowded streets of Kolkata.
During this period Bengal ran under the Communist Party of India, and an ideological rift with the central government culminated in crackdown on students, artists and activists by Indira Gandhi’s Emergency government leaving a generational gap in proactive youth that is only being filled today.
Yet artists continue to celebrate the vibrant laid-back style of this almost village-city, and on any given day downtown spots are filled with musicians, performance artists or painters, while student-activists from city universities still believe that their voice makes a difference in India's political arena.
Lacking in Infrastructure compared with most states and lying in the world's most populated “belt”, Bengal today is attempting to reconstruct its complicated identity and to accommodate the religious, cultural, and economic diversity of its people. At present the call is for 'development', with little to no definition of what that word entails, the outcome, as is everywhere, is rife with corruption and neglect, but among the young student population there is a hidden pride in the knowledge that this may well be one of the last corners of India where freedom of expression is still protected.
The first partition of Bengal was in part a political move to check the potential of revolt that was brewing in the state, as the Bengali art renaissance and independence movement heightened that possibility, the state was divided into West and East Bengal. Later in the North West a new state, Bihar, was formed, and the British capital shifted to New Delhi. 50 years later, East Bengal, sharing a history and a language, became, overnight, East Pakistan, and a mass exodus of people from either side ensued. Cut off from the economical and state center of Pakistan, East Pakistan inevitably became an Independent country in 1970, which prompted a second refuge crisis, millions fled Bangladesh, leaving behind property and belongings, their presence is still felt today in the overcrowded streets of Kolkata.
During this period Bengal ran under the Communist Party of India, and an ideological rift with the central government culminated in crackdown on students, artists and activists by Indira Gandhi’s Emergency government leaving a generational gap in proactive youth that is only being filled today.
Yet artists continue to celebrate the vibrant laid-back style of this almost village-city, and on any given day downtown spots are filled with musicians, performance artists or painters, while student-activists from city universities still believe that their voice makes a difference in India's political arena.
Lacking in Infrastructure compared with most states and lying in the world's most populated “belt”, Bengal today is attempting to reconstruct its complicated identity and to accommodate the religious, cultural, and economic diversity of its people. At present the call is for 'development', with little to no definition of what that word entails, the outcome, as is everywhere, is rife with corruption and neglect, but among the young student population there is a hidden pride in the knowledge that this may well be one of the last corners of India where freedom of expression is still protected.
THE COUNTRY
The sub-continent of India has the world in the palm of her hand! There are the young Himalaya mountains looming, glaciers crystal clear feed the Ganga river, or the Brahamaputra or the Yamuna or the Narmada, all flowing in dramatic ambition, all worshiped, loved and feared. There are the massive jungles and the dense forests behind which hide ageless temples, vast deserts in the West, meeting the Arabic Sea, in the East the Sundarbans forest filters the river delta into the Bay of Bengal, where tigers still find spaces to hide, elephants demand corridors, birds migrate from Siberia and wandering ascetics roam majestically through this wonderland, she rejects no one yet no one can tame her.
THE NATION
Maybe that's why India has had a restless history of uncountable invasion. India is that which lies East of the Indus river, the Persian envoys warned, that with each attempt to claim the crown jewel the country grows in strength and influence. Her mystery begins long ago, when the ancient Indus Civilization prospered here. Through a local population maintained a culture of transcendence that outdates our dating techniques, but according to many historians at one point the Aryan's migrated here, bringing with them Babylonian beliefs and technology. By the time Alexander the Great battled for the heart of India, Buddha and Mahavira were already godly figures, trade with the East and West alike was flourishing and great cities lined the waterways of the country. The Greeks, like so many before them, remained and integrated into the soil and the language. The Guptas checked the great on-slaughter of the Huns that defeated the Romans, and almost a millennium of inner warfare brought no lasting unified Indian Kingdom, until the Mughal's invaded and, it seems, feel madly in love with this strange country. But the nation-building European warriors overpowered them and ironically it was their control that woke up the spirit of Nationhood and independence in the Indian mind. One of the greatest tragedies of the 20th century partitioned the country into three parts, there was yet a bloody celebration on the eve of Independence, and ever since then India has been moving in no uncertain way toward an understanding of her diverse identity.