I consider this collection to be a diary of the past few years. It’s only a part of the entire story I will develop through every form of art or living I pursue, but if there is one thing I’m terrible at; it’s communicating. Maybe it has to do with growing up as an American Bengali Muslim in the suburbs of a tacky beach and moving to a big foreign city, not knowing what exactly “culturally acceptable” means. Maybe it came from learning to quietly tolerate and handle physical ailments since I have been alive. Maybe it’s just the anxiety in not knowing what to say in the moment. So for the rest of my life, I will continue learning to express in every way possible, so that just maybe, I can find a way for everyone to understand a strand of what I’m trying to say without saying much at all.
In my work, I collect mementos from meaningful experiences and find where they belong, and if there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s my intuition for composition. My artistic process is similar to the process of life, the first half being spent collecting and adding elements with little or no direction, and the second half is spent cleaning it all up to balance and make sense. Whether it comes to organizing my life, my home, my desk, my work, my mind, and any other cosmic level; I won’t leave it alone until it feels right. (Even while writing this artists statement, I’m constantly reducing and rearranging sentences until they feel solid (meta.)) I know that none of these things will ever feel completely perfect as I constantly find new ways of putting them together, but its all about the journey, isn’t it? (at least that’s what the philosophy/ religious/ self- help/ Kim K memoir books tell me).
Real talk: I am very nervous about this. It drives me mad knowing that no matter how directly I try to say something; someone will take it the wrong way (you can easily test this theory through any online comment section AT YOUR OWN RISK). There are too many ways to say the same thing. There is too much room for misunderstanding. I always seem to choose the worst even if there is no best. Everything can be interpreted as positive or negative. Anything can be trivialized by anything. Ultimately nothing really matters, which can be just as miserable as it is liberating. I’m selling my “body” of work because I’m ready to move on from here, and I want you to have what I’ve made as a memento of your own. So I hope this is closure, but there’s always room to change and there is always room to stay the same.
It’s a democracy,
Emotion opposing objectivity.
A battle between logic and feelings.
A balance within me.
It’s hard to function without the trade,
The yin and the yang.
Making deals with another entity.
Solidarity against vulnerability.
it’s always risky.
Are we the ally or the enemy?
We can declare peace,
But It’s so easy
To break a treaty.
Technicality overrides morality.
We’re on the same team.
take your protein pills, and put your helmet on
how did you know