Ceramic Stupas
2021
2022, 2023
Ceramics
paper, monotypes
2023
Presented at Proposals for a Memorial to Partition curated by Murtaza Vali
12 Gates, Philadelphia
This exchange of letters between Dr. Ambedkar and Nehru in December 1947 highlights the suffering of the untouchable communities during partition. Many untouchable people were restricted from crossing the border because of their caste-based sanitation jobs deemed 'Essential Services'. Those who were able to leave suffered immensely at refugee camps, facing caste-discrimination wherever they went.
A close up image of Dr.Ambedkar reading from sheets of paper accompanies the texts. This marks the moment when he was officially sworn in as the first law minister of Independent India by Nehru, a few months after the exchange of these letters.
Paper, ink, porcelain
2023
The works in the studio embody certain gestures of transformation, both within Goody’s family and larger community, towards a sense of humanity, dignity, and self-respect.
These gestures – in the form of an installation, ceramic pieces, and images – are rooted in historical events led by Dr. Ambedkar such as the burning of the laws of Manu in 1927, leaving Hinduism through mass conversion to Buddhism in 1956, and the slow but steady rise of literacy and education over the twentieth century.
Paper is present in all of the works. Goody have long been fascinated by paper’s role as a carrier of the written word, its deep ties to caste, religion and power, as well as the possibility of it taking various forms due to its materiality, strength, and fragility.
Pulp from unknown books and newspapers is smeared across the floor and wall to make a stupa. Paper holds the ink of leaking images of my family and community on their visit to ancient Buddhist caves. The sheets of porcelain also once contained paper (specifically the laws of Manu), but on firing, the paper was burnt off, leaving behind an airy and light, but hard, surface. A new page, a blank slate.
Ceramics, paper pulp, inkjet monotypes, text
2022
Galleryske, New Delhi, India
In March 1927, a 35 year old Babasaheb Ambedkar marched with over 10,000 people down the steps of Chavdar (‘tasty’ in Marathi) tank in the town of Mahad, Maharashtra, bent down, dipped his hands into the water, and took a drink. Many public spaces such as water bodies like the Chavdar tank and roads were out of bounds for Dalit people for generations – our touch, even our shadow, considered impure. This act, then, of quenching one’s thirst from the water of Chavdar, was not only a fight for the basic human right to drink water, but more importantly, it laid the foundations for a casteless society.
The Mahad Satyagraha is perhaps the most significant event in Dalit history. At the time, it was never photographed by regional or national media, but ripples were felt across the country. Almost a century later, this site, embedded in social and political struggle, is an important place of pilgrimage, and with growing access to phones and cameras, we now choose how we wish to celebrate and memorialise the Satyagraha with our own images.
‘Is the water chavdar?’ is a personal homage to the undocumented 10,000 who journeyed for days through hostile towns and villages to reach Chavdar, and the visitors who make records of the site today. This body of work brings together ceramics, printmaking, paper pulp, and adapted recipes developed over the last three years as evidence of this powerful moment of transformation – for those who joined Babahaheb in the march, and for the millions of us who have come after.
2022
Ceramics
glazed ceramics, clay slip, paper porcelain, paper pulp, text
2022
Deeksha is a reflection on both the private and socio-political impact of conversion. It is a celebration of 14th October, Dhammachkra Pravartan Diwas, when Dr. Ambedkar, along with hundreds of thousands of people, converted to Buddhism in 1956. It is also an introspection of my own private and familial relationship to Buddhist practice.
The body of work includes
Photographs fired into thin porcelain paper clay, photographs that I took in 2017 during our annual pilgrimage in Nagpur to Deekshabhoomi.
22 vows painted on the wall with clay slip, extracted and gathered together from various Dalit memoirs I’ve been reading, inspired by the 22 vows that Dr. Ambedkar took when he converted to Buddhism.
A toran or sacred gateway more than three metres long, consisting of hundreds of ceramic objects resembling food and flowers.
Paper pulp made from the Manusmriti text, spread on the floor.
2021
Ceramics
Presented at “New Natures: A Terrible Beauty is Born” curated by Ravi Agarwal. Goethe Institut, Mumbai.
A recipe/poem and hundreds of ceramic objects resembling food items and elements from nature come together in a ring to form a ‘picnic’. ‘Picnic’ is both a text and a visual exploration inspired by Dalit writer Sharankumar Limbale’s experiences of being ostracised and discriminated against as a young school student in the 1960s in Maharashtra. The discrimination took place both inside the classroom as well as outside, on events such as these picnics; permeating a natural landscape, seemingly devoid of human intervention, with deep rooted practices of untouchability.
‘Picnic’ as a recipe invites the reader to attempt to put themselves in Limbale’s shoes, as if following step-by-step instructions that ultimately lead to a deeply uncomfortable situation. The ceramic objects, many resembling leaves and sticks as well as Maharashtrian food items like bhakris, papad, vadis, bhajjis, bhel, and so on, further add to the inedibility of the situation. I choose to use the ceramic medium also because of its associations with mud, soil, the earth, and, on firing, the fact that it has the potential to last thousands of years - like Dalit resilience.
paper pulp, wood, borrowed books
2021
Presented as part of Constitutions, curated by Swapnaa Tamhane
Leonard & Bina Ellen Gallery, Webster Library, Concordia University, Canada
Bookshelves covered in paper pulp from the Manusmriti hold all the books on caste in the Webster Library.
2018
Ceramics, paper pulp
Video + Installation. Rock salt, red chillies, wire.
2017
Khoj International Artists' Association, New Delhi
108 glass tumblers containing dried and diluted panchagavya (a mixture of cow dung, cow urine, milk, ghee, and curd), 2 plastic bottles with cow urine.
2017
In 1927, thousands of dalits marched down the steps of Chavdar (meaning ‘tasty’ in Marathi) water tank in Mahad, Maharashtra, bent down, dipped their hands into the water, and took a drink. For generations in India, though people of all other castes and even animals could drink from the Chavdar without any objection, dalits were considered too impure to do so. In accordance with the oppressive rules of the caste system, many public spaces such as water bodies like the Chavdar tank and roads were, and still are, out of bounds for the so-called ‘untouchables’. Thus, this act of quenching one’s thirst from the water of Chavdar was a fight for the basic human right to drink water, and more importantly, in the words of the father of the Dalit Movement, Dr. Ambedkar, it was an attempt to reconstruct society on the principles of the French Revolution; the ‘foundational struggle’ of the Dalit Movement towards caste annihilation.
This Satyagraha, this act of non-violent resistance, was met with brutal retaliation from the privileged castes. Not only did they instigate riots in Mahad, but these upper caste Hindus also performed a purification ritual for the water tank since it had now been polluted in their eyes. Panchagavya played a significant role in this. Panchagavya is an ancient concoction prepared by mixing five products of the cow. These five products consist of cow dung, cow urine, milk, curd, and ghee. Also used as an agricultural fertiliser, its primary role is ‘purification and in the expiation of sin’. The Hindu law book, the Manusmriti, written in approximately 1500 B.C, states that panchagavya must be swallowed in case of stealing food, a vehicle etc. And so, as an attempt to purify the water from the polluted touch of dalit hands and mouths and drown the voice of the resistance, 108 large earthen pots of panchagavya were prepared and poured into the tank. Only then did the upper castes drink from the tank again.
Today, 90 years since the Mahad Satyagraha, sharing food and water with a member of another caste is still considered sinful for a staunch Hindu. Everyday acts such as eating and drinking are marked by memories of hunger, thirst, hardship, and shame for many minorities. It is not uncommon to hear stories of dalits being isolated by upper castes at meal times, whether at school or work. The consequences of stepping over these lines can be much worse. Indeed, crimes against dalits such as rape, murder, beatings, and violence related to land matters are committed approximately every 18 minutes.[i]
Despite oppressed communities gaining a stronger voice in politics and social life today, self-proclaimed guardians of Hindu culture continue to dominate the narrative. A relatively recent ban on consuming beef enforced in many parts of the country has allowed ‘cow-protectors’ affiliated with right wing Hindu nationalist ideology to flex their muscles. Known for violently attacking—even killing—those suspected of eating or transporting beef (commonly eaten by non-Hindus), they proudly upload videos on YouTube and other social media platforms of force-feeding concoctions of cow-dung and urine to their victims in an attempt to purify them of their sins. A fitting metaphor for the increasing saffron fascism in the country, despite the proud labels of democracy, secularism, and socialism that it prefers to be associated with.
[i] i http://www.overcomingviolence.org/en/resources/campaigns/women-against-violence/now-we-are-fearless/dalit-fact-sheet.html
2016
The grounds of Piramal Vaikunth are splattered with the remnants of a bustling chemical factory that once employed thousands.
2015
New and used footwear, net
Khoj Residency, TIFA Working Studios, Pune