Untitled

“I AM A THEATRE DIRECTOR AND A LIGHTING DESIGNER. THIS IS MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT A LIGHT INSTALLATION. I HAVE DELIBERATELY MADE AN ATTEMPT TO NOT USE THEATRE LIGHT EQUIPMENT – EQUIPMENT WHICH I AM FAMILIAR WITH. I HAVE TRIED TO PUT TOGETHER ACTUAL LIGHT SOURCES – TUBELIGHTS – WITH PROJECTED LIGHT SOURCES – IMAGES OF TUBELIGHTS WHICH I PHOTOGRAPHED IN SHOPS AT LOKNAYAK BHAVAN, KHAN MARKET. I HAVE TRIED TO CREATE/ARTICULATE A SPACE AND TO GIVE THE SPACE DEPTH, OR AT LEAST THE ILLUSION OF DEPTH. I ALSO WANTED TO CREATE A PIECE WITH THE RICE BULBS AS I HAVE BEEN USING LIGHT BULBS OF DIFFERING SHAPES, SIZES AND INTENSITIES IN MY LAST COUPLE OF PROJECTS AND WANTED TO TAKE THAT FURTHER. THE PROJECT IS BASED ON THE TEXT BELOW WHICH IS A SECTION FROM HEINER MULLER’S PROSE TEXT - THE FATHER The last time I saw him in an isolation ward in a hospital in Charlottenburg. I took the local train to Charlottenburg, walked past ruins and tree trunks down a wide street; in the hospital I was led through a long bright corridor to the glass door of the isolation ward. The bell was rung. A nurse appeared behind the glass, nodded in silence when I asked for my father, strode down the corridor and disappeared into one of the end rooms. Then my father came out. He looked small in striped pyjamas that were too big for him. His slippers slapped along the stone tiles. We stood there, glass between us, and looked at each other. His gaunt face was pale. We had to talk in a loud voice. He rattled at the locked door and called the nurse. She arrived, shook her head and left. His arms sunk and he looked at me through the glass in silence. I heard a child crying in one of the rooms . As I left I saw him standing behind the glass door waving. In the light that fell through the big old window at the end of the corridor he looked old. The train sped past ruins and building sites. Outside there was the iron grey daylight of October.” – Zuleikha Chaudhari, ‘Artist’s Statement’