Shilpa Gupta explains art as a means of shifting and reshaping reality, manipulating it to excavate and introduce new, very different perspectives that encourage us to rethink the patterns and possibilities shaping our lives. The visual, in her hands, becomes an antidote, an intellectual attack even, on the inertia of acceptance and complacency.
Living and working in Mumbai, Gupta is one of over 21 million people pressed against one another. In many ways, her work challenges the intensity of contemporary life, engaging in an artistic examination of lopsided social and political structures that elevate some people while diminishing others. Using the readymade as a material base, she turns everything over, physically and metaphorically, to reveal the inner workings of her mind in object form.
Two recent text-based, neon works—This Horizon Inside of Us (2023, Manar Abu Dhabi), set against the horizon line dividing sky and sea, and We Change Each Other (2023, Noor Riyadh), set against a wadi divided by an elevated concrete bridge—address her interest in language as a conveyer of information and a marker of identity. With their light piercing the darkness, these works change in the blink of an eye, from one language to another, from the familiar to the unfathomable in a single rotation—an interchange that goes to the root of Gupta’s practice.
Rajesh Punj: Your work for the inaugural Manar Abu Dhabi was described as exploring “humans’ ability for change.” How did you manifest that idea?
Shilpa Gupta: I grew up in a society in which rigidity along the lines of religion, gender, and caste have led to a lot of pain, humiliation, and fear. However, we practice “change” every day in our personal lives as we adapt to new situations. Look at food, for instance: it is such an amalgamation of regions, places, and attitudes. We all enjoy variety, don’t we? This work was a continuation of my interest in perception and mobility. If we were to recognize and allow for that attitude to exist in different spheres, it would create a space for freedom.
RP: There is an incredible sophistication to your works, born of very simple and, at the same time, substantial ideas. Have you always been interested in that combination?
SG: Even while at art school, or just after, I found myself drawn to working with objects from our surroundings. Objects carry certain narratives, and by rearranging them, their inherited meanings shift. For example, in one early piece, from 2001, I gave women kits with cloth pieces to stain with menstrual blood. Upon collection, these cloths were installed to create a piece on the wall, the source revealed only after the work was encountered. By altering the gap between assigned meanings and the object, a space to reassess prejudices emerged. So yes, in a way the approach continues, because we often stand entangled under the weight of certain meanings.
In the animated light work for Abu Dhabi, which is part of an ongoing series that started in 2004, lines are drawn as if from a ruled book. These lines turn into words, which have gaps. The lines and gaps alter, and then in the last sequence, they overlap, creating a lateral mirror. Reflection/refraction, visibility/invisibility, is another recurring interest. Because I am interested in a wide audience, starting with the familiar and simple allows space for starting a possible conversation.
RP: Were there any particular considerations that determined the work for Abu Dhabi?
SG: The social fabric of the place, which is very diverse. While I was at the Corniche Road, I met and spoke with walkers, joggers, and cyclists from South Asia, North Africa, and Europe.
RP: How important is interaction, and is it the audience that activates your work?
SG: I see the work as the start of a conversation, which is activated when the audience participates.
RP: You have always employed many different mediums to convey your message. Does the static object prove insufficient?
SG: I also do works on paper. I wouldn’t say that any medium is a limitation.
RP: Your work has been described as “decidedly open.” With that in mind, are there more possibilities that come into being when there is more than one answer to a work?
SG: Yes, of course. I have seen people read the work in different ways. They read from their own perspectives, informed by time, place, and memory. However, where things intertwine between the artist, art object, and the audience is when a certain essence is carried through.
RP: When you are invited to exhibit in different countries, how do you decide what addresses the needs of a particular location and its audience? Or is it that the works are universal and only need to be rehung/relocated?
SG: There is no single response to this because it depends on the nature of the work and what possibilities a context offers. In 2013, when I showed a series with images and text in Dhaka, I had all of the text translated into Bengali. When I showed Threat (an installation with takeaway soaps) in Jakarta, after a conversation with the museum curatorial team, it was decided to leave it in English.
RP: Are you optimistic about the course of humanity, or is every new work a subtle criticism of our inability to love and learn from one another?
SG: I often find myself deeply affected by the pain that I see around me. However, when I make works, I try to deal with this by creating a space of listening.
A solo exhibition of Shilpa Gupta’s recent work, “I Live Under Your Sky Too,” is on view at Centro Botín in Santander, Spain, through September 8, 2024.
