Guerilla Mission Accomplished

We put the posters up in Delhi today, I and a photographer accomplice who documented the mission. The posters were woodcut prints of myself, trying to make sense of India-- I know, hard to picture without a visual. But maybe it's better that way. We went to a bustling hub in the city, I with my fat brush, tub of glue, and armful of hand-printed posters. It's funny how having a mission can give you a sense of ownership over a place, particularly an enigmatic and overwhelming city like Delhi.

I'm seeing the clear advantages of displaying art in a non-major art city, as it's easier to create interest. I put up a poster on a trash can in a crowded bazaar, and before I had half the sheet glued down, a small, inquisitive crowd had gathered. I did avoid the metro station for a weenie fear of security cameras and guards galore, though I was prepared to bribe policemen. But only two people discouraged me and both were very polite, one saying "Please, miss, this is not possible. Is not permitted. I'm sorry miss." Another followed me after I'd just pasted one, apologetically explaining, "I do not know if this is legal. There may be some law, I do not know. I just thought you should know." Sweet, really. Other responses included: "What is this? A poster for a missing child?" and "Miss, what is the meaning? I thought maybe this was some terrorist..."

We avoided dialogue, although my intention wasn't to be evasive about meaning-- crowds just happen too quickly in Delhi. I mostly gave short anwswers like, "It's art." And they seemed happy with that answer, some very much so, as one man exclaimed, "Yes! This is fantastic!" I think my accomplice and I both had that odd satisfaction that often comes with putting yourself in uncomfortable, vulnerable positions. And I was reminded how much I love art outside of galleries-- and I'm not talking about big red metal things.

TV Land

I was there today, although I can't tell you exactly what it was like. I was on the morning news, but I didn't actually see my debut-- was just told I'd be airing at 8:30 this morning. A film crew came to the Village yesterday after seeing a press release about the upcoming residency exhibition. So they interviewed and filmed a few of us. It's encouraging that art creates as much interest as it does here. I think I'd maybe take interest over understanding, if I had to choose. Interest, in general, implies a humility I think, that there's something that you don't know and want to be taught. Of course, I'm not talking about the fake, patronizing interest-- though that's not necessarily bad. Or maybe it's assumed understanding that can be so disappointing-- on either end, for the audience who refuses to engage the art, ask the difficult questions because they believe to already understand-- and for the artist who assumes the audience can read his mind and does not need to be further engaged.

Snakes on an Auto!

Oh no he di-int. (Yes, he did.) The crazed man asking for money done shoved his coiled reptilian friend in my face! He wasn't asking for money. He was threatening, with beady eyes, screaming demands for money, shoving a slithering snake on my lap. Like the exploited snake, I too coiled back, against my friend sitting beside me in the auto rickshaw. We were stuck in traffic. We couldn't go anywhere. The driver calmly told the crazy fool "Nay, nay," gently shooing him away. I'm sorry, gently shooing doesn't work with snake-wielding vigilantes. So I shout at him; my Taiwanese friend gets more insistent than I've ever heard him. This went on for a very long minute.

Okay, I think I'm over that. Just wanted to offer some solice to you guys beating your steering wheel during rush hour in the States-- at least there are no snakes in your auto.

Thank God for Birthdays
What would I do without birthdays in India? I hadn't had wine or brownies since I've been here-- almost a month! So, the occasion called, and I found an expensive imported grocery store with all sorts of goodies, including Duncan Hines double fudge brownie mix. Wendy, a vivacious New Foundler made a Mexican dinner (is that allowed, asks the Texan-- apparently, if she can conjure cheddar cheese and tortilla chips this side of the GMT). Preparations were only momentarily interupted by a too-large and too-close-for-comfort rodent. Some of the staff shooed it outside eventually, after having a good laugh at us dancing to avoid the beast.

Takin' it to the Streets
After another frustrating delay in promised materials, I've adopted the screw-it attitude. In my art-making process, this attitude usually means something exciting is coming. Lest I make empty proclamations, I'll just stop at saying, "Look out. Tori's taking guerilla printmaking to the streets of Delhi." Pray she doesn't get arrested and that cheap craft glue sticks to cement in monsoon rains.

Delhi Art Scene
We got another glimpse into the Indian art scene today. A friend of a friend's here owns a gallery and was kind enough to pick us up, show us some work he privately collects. There seem to be two buzz words with curators in Delhi, "modern" and "contemporary." Beyond that, the art world seems to lack much definition while remaining in a narrow classification. Galleries, at least in Delhi, seem to mostly show paintings and some bulky abstract sculptures, most of which seem derivative of Western modernist work. India's at a very funny place right now, deciding what it will be. It's an exciting time for a fascinating country, but I hope that it has the wisdom to look outside of the Now and: 1) consider and take pride in its heritage and 2) look at what's being done in the art world internationally. I believe in you, India! Rise up!

New Favorite Street Treats:
chaat-- oh my goodness. you haven't lived until you've tried this. A gloppy, messy, street finger food with fried potatoes, other fried batter goodies, sweet yogurt, chickpeas, chili sauce.

water balls (I forget the Hindi word) fried hollow ping-pong sized balls that they dip in this vat of spicy cold broth with a miscellany of spices and vegetables. You then pop the whole thing in your mouth. Delish!

I made the entertainment pages again, what can I say. Mom must be proud. A rather large, awkward photo of me standing outside a concert hall, hands awkwardly holding phone, camera, bag. (Does anyone else have issues knowing what their body is doing? For me, my hands and wrists are my deviant appendages-- I'm never quite sure what they're up to.)

New topic of great rejoicing:
I'm going to the mountains! I'm going to the mountains! Yay wafer-thin air, bumpety bus ride, night sky chalk full o' stars! I love the mountains, don't get those much back home. I'm forfeiting the Taj to go, but I don't think I'll regret it. I need some God-made goodness.
That's in 2 weeks, so I have plenty of motivation to work hard.

Another celebratory commentary:
Spent the day with delightful folk at the church, helping w/ some publication stuff. They've got the greatest community, heartily fun, genuine, and kind. I pray that it grows and grows to include people who desperately need that. And that God would make them even bigger dreamers. India's full of dreamy floaters and pragmatic doers-- how powerful to have the church be made of big-dreaming doers!

Multiple Choice Question:

Today, your state of mind could best be compared to:

A) The mangy dog taking a dump in the middle of oncoming traffic, sniffing upwards at the exhaust-filled air, unaffected by the buses, taxis, and motorbikes swervering around him.

B) The wild-eyed autorickshaw driver puffing nervously at his cigarette while dodging cow road blocks and acrobatic pan-handling children.

C) That banana leaf paper tray, once so beautiful as it cradled syrupy golden sweets, now trampled underfoot by apathetic cows nosing their way through piles of garbage.

As I've come across these images lately, I think I can make an informed decision: the last, C.

It had been a productive morning, placing orders for materials with an actual person, finding myself contentedly dirtied by studio work, so I thought I could spare an excursion afternoon. My adventure buddy, Anne and I took off for Old Delhi. Yes, New Delhi has its evil twin, Old Delhi. Actually, sometimes the two swap places, making things very confusing. We were set on seeing big old things, the city's oldest and biggest mosque, Jama Mashtid, and Lal Qila, a walled red fort perched atop a hill. (To you Roman historians, it seems to stretch the size of Circus Maximus!)

The fort was closed, so we made our way to a Hindu temple that appeared to be open. As customary, we took off our shoes to tiptoe through suspiciously colored puddles and fresh bird poo. (Turns out, the back of the temple housed a bird hospital decorated with the most marvelous informational painting depicting how birds get hurt: young boys armed with kites and sling shots seem to be the targeted culprits, followed by the often demonized carnivorous cat.) The interior of the temple was closed, so we flagged down a cycle rickshaw and, after incessantly insisting that, "No, we don't want the grand Old Delhi tour," had him drop us at the old mosque.

Let's just say women, especially foreign women, beware Jama Mashtid. We had our heads covered, but not well enough, I suppose. They rifled through our purses, charged us camera fees, and kept pointing at a rules signboard as we watched other non-Muslim but Indian women file through. They kept us outside the gates, telling us to wait. Again, us watching other women, many with heads uncovered, walk past. A small crowd gathered, men wanting to tell us what the mosque rules were, some very passionate, and it became a game of sorts, one that grew in number. After a vehement, "Shoes down! Shoes down!" (We were standing with shoes in hand to give to the appropriate shoe-keeper.), We forfeited and left, without seeing the splendor that lay past the entrance. I'll return eventually, I'm sure.

You know, one of my motivating reasons for coming here was to empathize with those who struggle to belong in cultures they find themselves in. So, along those lines, I'm grateful for today. Love for people and places must be tested before one can proudly don the "I heart Delhi" T-shirt, literally and metaphorically.

One big ARRG. Perhaps it's a bad idea to blog when one is grouchy, but I just want India to hear me if she's listening-- Whyyyyyyyyy? I can't accomplish a thing today-- incorrect email addresses, blocked credit cards, non-existent paper factories, promises long expired, air so thick it seems to suffocate, flies that don't understand boundaries.


I will write more when things look up because I know they will soon... all about perspective and reminding myself that "those who hope in the Lord won't be disappointed." Ice cream sure would help though.