Category: Art

La columna de Flavia Propper – Una señal

Una señal

Para Dani

Llegó a mis manos una delicada y minúscula pelusa blanca, un simple y majestuoso panadero. Luego de añares de no ver ninguno, me sorprendí. Además, ¿cómo pudo haber entrado a esta habitación con puerta y ventanas cerradas? Con su presencia sentí una emoción especial, inexplicable, como si el panadero fuera una señal. Y llegaron los recuerdos de mi niñez: la alegría de atraparlos, la convicción de concretar deseos al soltarlos al viento. Con una felicidad casi infantil intenté tomar este panadero y se escurrió de mis manos, levantó un vuelo rasante y comenzamos a jugar: te escapabas con movimientos zigzagueantes hasta que te atrapé. Cerré los ojos con fuerza y pedí un solo deseo: un plácido descanso para tu alma, que vivió encerrada en un cuerpo gastado de tanta vida enferma. Abrí las ventanas, miré la inmensidad del cielo y solté al sutil mensajero.

 

Flavia Propper nació en la Ciudad de Buenos Aires en 1973. Es Magíster en Educación, Licenciada en Ciencias Pedagógicas y Profesora de Yoga. Es autora de “En boca de todos (monólogos de novela)“ (Azul Francia, 2020) y “La era de los superniños. Infancia y dibujos animados“ (Alfagrama, 2007) -libro que fue adquirido por el Ministerio de Educación Nacional de Argentina para las bibliotecas escolares de todo el país. Ha publicado numerosos cuentos en diversas obras colectivas, y textos didácticos y de divulgación científica para diferentes editoriales.

Entrevista con Artista Surcoreana JeeYoung Lee por Tatiana Cwaigenberg


JeeYoung Lee

 

15/01/2021

Entrevista con JeeYoung Lee

TATIANA CWAIGENBERG

Entrevista en ingles

PREGUNTA: ¿Qué estudiaste? ¿Te permitió esa educación formal llegar a lo que hacés hoy en día?

RESPUESTA: Recibí mi título de grado en comunicación visual y diseño y un master en fotografía en la Universidad Hongik en Seoul. Siendo estudiante, elegí la fotografía como Proyecto final, que se convirtió en las bases de lo que sería mi serie “Stage of mind”. Si bien seguí los estudios para aprender más sobre fotografía, el entrenamiento tradicional no fue un factor determinante en mi concepto. Durante la Carrera me interesé por las artes del teatro y el diseño de producción. Participé en un club audiovisual en el colegio, involucrándome frecuentemente en el equipo de montaje escénico. Trabajé también de asistente en una productora de comerciales. Creo que lo que verdaderamente formó lo que produzco hoy en día fueron mi personalidad, mis intereses y mis experiencias.

 

P: ¿Podrías guiarnos en tu proceso de creación y desarrollo de tus trabajos? Dijiste en entrevistas previas que elegís no retocar digitalmente tus fotos, ¿por qué es eso?

R: Una vez que me decido en un tema/objeto, realizo un boceto de lo que voy a generar. Luego paso a la investigación, preparación y planificación. Suelo probar diferentes materiales hasta encontrar el correcto. Cuando defino todo eso es el momento de la producción en sí.  Tengo un marco de madera dispuesto en mi estudio. Lo pinto, creo manualmente los objetos que irán en el set y los voy ubicando en este. Una vez listo el set, saco fotos de prueba. A veces aparezco en esas fotos como modelo. El resultado final lo capturo con una cámara analógica de formato largo 4×5. Hecha la fotografía, desarmo todo el set.

La existencia es un componente clave en mi trabajo. No modifico digitalmente mis fotos por las siguientes razones: Lo que hago es una recreación de distintos paisajes internos generados en mi mente, pero a la vez son “reales” porque reflejan mis experiencias y emociones. Materializo lo que está en mi cabeza armando instalaciones y documentándolas en fotografía, el medio más fidedigno para registrar la realidad. Creo que esto explica por qué elijo la fotografía en conjunto con las instalaciones como medio.

El resultado final es en forma de fotografía, pero considero el proceso de armar la instalación, posar dentro de ella, sacar la foto y destruir el set como partes dentro del todo en mis creaciones artísticas. El agotador y riguroso proceso de armar el set es casi un recorrido espiritual. Capturar un momento en el tiempo, armar el set y posar detrás de una cámara me permite dar un paso atrás y observar la experiencia como una tercera persona. En otras palabras, revivo la experiencia como la protagonista y como observadora. Mis obras me permiten recapitular mis experiencias pero también me ayudan a superar las emociones implicadas en ellas. Todo se encuentra involucrado en mis esfuerzos por crecer y progresar, mirándome y mirando mi vida de forma más positiva.

 

P: ¿Qué artistas te influenciaron?

R: Mi artista favorito/a cambia todo el tiempo. Últimamente me gustan las obras de Chiharu Shiota y Yayoy Kusama. Tim Burton y Michel Gondry son mis preferidos desde siempre. Suelo inspirarme de diversos/as fotógrafos/as de sets artísticos también.

 

P: Cuando en Buenos Aires se realizó la puesta de la exhibición de Yayoi Kusama fue furor. En sus exhibiciones, la interacción con el espacio en específico es esencial y a la vez fluctuante, se adapta y se modifica. ¿Qué aspectos positivos y negativos encontrás en llevar a cabo tus sets en estudio y no directo sobre galerías? ¿Qué efectos genera la fotografía como producto final en los espectadores y las espectadoras y en la obra artística en sí?

R: Lo que creo en mi estudio es un registro de mis propios tiempos y soy libre de las restricciones temporales, aunque esté restricta en términos de espacio. Cuando creo instalaciones para que audiencias las vivan, considero su percepción del espacio y experiencia un componente esencial. La pregunta del “dónde” también es una parte importante de mis instalaciones. Cuando recreo una pieza, ajusto detalles, escalas y diseño para que se ajuste a la locación. Cada instalación es diferente incluso si es una réplica de algún trabajo anterior.

Ninguna de mis instalaciones está creada para ser preservada para siempre. La fotografía es el resultado del proceso. Espero que quienes la ven puedan expandir su imaginación por sobre la escena y encontrar algo replete de significado. Espero que descubran un relato en ellos mismos y ellas mismas.

 

P: ¿Cuáles de tus obras son tus favoritas? ¿Por qué?

R: “Ansiedad” fue importante para mí. Esa pieza consiste de dos partes: video y fotografía. Representan el reino de lo consciente/exterior y de lo subconsciente/interior. Contraté a una performer y la grabé. La parte en video de esta obra aborda de forma más directa las emociones. “Ansiedad” fue experimental para mí porque debí y logré separar mi yo interior en dos capas (la consciente y la subconsciente) como si soñase dentro de un sueño.

Quiero realizar más videos en el futuro. Creo que este sería una buena referencia.


Anxiety

P: Tus trabajos son considerados por algunas personas como surrealistas, ¿te sentís conectada con ese movimiento?

R: Creo que las personas dirían que mis fotos son surrealistas porque recurro a metáforas, símbolos y códigos para expresarme visualmente. Siempre estuve interesada en reinterpretar lo que siento familiar o cercano y transformarlo en algo desconocido.

 

P: ¿Sentís que tus obras tengan un trasfondo político?

R: No creo que mi obra tenga trasfondos políticos. Se centra en lo personal, los recuerdos, las emociones. Pero si me involucrase con algún movimiento político, no dudaría en que se vuelva un tema en mis próximos trabajos.

 

P: ¿Cuáles tres palabras elegirías para describir a tu país? ¿Cómo sentís que Corea del Sur haya influenciado en tus trabajos?

R: Competitividad, velocidad y presión. Surcorea ha progresado mucho en poco tiempo. Somos muy sensibles al cambio y nos incorporamos rápido a nuevas tendencias. También tenemos altas expectativas en las personas. Como parte de esta sociedad, siempre siento cierta presión que expreso luego en mis fotos.

 

P: En los últimos años, el arte asiático ha tenido mucho impacto internacional. ¿Notás el panorama artístico de tu país incrementando y expandiéndose? ¿Qué percibís de este intercambio entre Asia y el resto del mundo?

R: Sé que el cine coreano y nuestra cultura pop ha incrementado en seguidores. Las redes sociales nos permitieron crear grupos donde intercambiar intereses sin restricciones geográficas. Creo que estos intercambios culturales ampliarán perspectivas en la gente y permitirán superar ciertas diferencias o tensiones entre culturas. En tiempos como estos, nos definen más nuestros gustos que dónde estamos.

 

P: ¿Te gusta trabajar en equipo? ¿Cuáles son tus próximos pasos?

R: ¡Siempre recibo con gusto la posibilidad de trabajar con un equipo! Por el momento estoy planeando filmar un video-performance con una coreógrafa para mi próxima obra. También me interesan las cuestiones ambientales. Me gustaría crear algo usando materiales reciclados abordar este problema.

 

Gamer

Link to Bio – JeeYoung Lee

 

________________________________________________________________________________

Biografía – Tatiana Cwaigenberg

Tatiana Cwaigenberg es una estudiante argentina que vive en Buenos Aires y pasó el año final de su educación inicial en Londres. Asiste a un taller de escritura creativa, estudia música e idiomas  y está incursionando en la realización cinematográfica. Da apoyo escolar para chicos/as de primaria y jardín en un merendero autogestionado por estudiantes.

La columna de Flavia Propper – Espermatozoides mentales

Espermatozoides mentales

Emergen inicios posibles, todos distintos, cada uno con su impronta. Una carrera de espermatozoides mentales buscando concebir la historia. Y en eso, entre las opciones, una -solo una- comienza un proceso de gestación. Palpita en mis entrañas, toma forma y crece. La alimento con recuerdos, fantasías y experiencias. La nutro con mi conciencia y también con mis zonas más oscuras. Y así,  la historia queda escrita. Pujo. Creo que falta pero ya es hora. Pujo. Está por conocer el mundo. Pujo. La quiero retener pero ya no es mía. Y, finalmente, la suelto, la entrego, ya es tuya.

 

Flavia Propper nació en la Ciudad de Buenos Aires en 1973. Es Magíster en Educación, Licenciada en Ciencias Pedagógicas y Profesora de Yoga. Es autora de “En boca de todos (monólogos de novela)“ (Azul Francia, 2020) y “La era de los superniños. Infancia y dibujos animados“ (Alfagrama, 2007) -libro que fue adquirido por el Ministerio de Educación Nacional de Argentina para las bibliotecas escolares de todo el país. Ha publicado numerosos cuentos en diversas obras colectivas, y textos didácticos y de divulgación científica para diferentes editoriales.

ÚNA: Fostering connections between Latin America and Scotland through the Arts, an article by Tasmin Petrie

08/10/2020

ÚNA: Fostering connections between Latin America and Scotland through the Arts

 

As an introduction to Tasmin’s work in the arts and culture sector in Glasgow, she writes about her role within ÚNA Festival: Uniting Narratives with Arts and the roots of the festival itself.

Having joined the project in May 2019 during her Undergraduate degree in Italian and Hispanic Studies at the University of Glasgow, Tasmin is now Head of Fundraising and Charity Trustee of ÚNA. Latterly, through her own research into contemporary Latina artists, she actively continues to promote transcultural dialogues between Latin America and Scotland.

Now in its second edition, the full ÚNA Festival 2020 programme is still available to view here: https://unafest.com/day1

Since its inception in 2019, ÚNA has dedicated itself to fostering a nourishing and inclusive platform for Latin American and Scottish performers, artists and activists. The very title of the project itself is a nod to the Spanish for ‘one’ and to ‘Oonagh’ – the Celtic Queen of the Fairies. Based in Glasgow, and initially formed as a student-led initiative within the University of Glasgow, the past year has seen ÚNA go from strength to strength to now expand its global outreach through digital platforms as well as in-person events.

Our first festival in May 2019 truly exhibited a cross-section of local Scottish and Gaelic performance and artistic production, which hinged upon the prevalence of myth within Gaelic heritage, considering how mythological tales and traditions still resonate with our lives in a contemporary context. This was coupled with speakers and cultural practitioners from Latin America, whose projects work closely with Indigenous communities in order to ensure their environments are protected from damaging human impact such as deforestation and fracking. The outcome of this first edition was the creation of a network of engaged and passionate individuals, all working towards the common goal of uniting the regions of Latin America and Scotland through tapping into our shared appreciation and intrinsic knowledge of the natural world and its elements. By weaving this tapestry of rich cultural production and ancestral knowledge gleaned from Indigenous communities in Latin America and Gaelic heritage in Scotland, ÚNA has established a platform which champions early career and emerging artists, both based in Scotland and across Latin America.

Our 2020 programme built on this network of affiliated artists and cultural practitioners, despite our activities panning out somewhat differently to our first edition in 2019. Inevitably, the COVID pandemic impacted ÚNA’s programmed festival for May 2020; scheduled to take place in the Centre for Contemporary Arts in the heart of Glasgow city centre. However, our dedicate and driven team worked tirelessly despite the obstacles presented by COVID, which ultimately resulted in the curation of ÚNA’s first digital edition of the festival in June 2020. Taking our activities online afforded us the opportunity to draw together a myriad of artists and performers from Argentina, Brazil, Colombia, Mexico and Peru, as well as Scottish artists from the Outer Hebrides to Glasgow.

The silver lining of producing digital content was the ability to bring together artists from all corners of Latin America and Scotland, all without harming the environment through carbon emissions! The focus of our multidisciplinary programme this year coalesces around environmental activism and the natural elements, investigating how our engagement with these facets of everyday life has altered considerably in times of lockdown. ÚNA’s full festival programme is still available to view on our website; we hope that in a society in a constant state of flux this digital content presents an aperture to ground ourselves and re-establish a connection with the environment and the natural elements, as well as work towards building a more reciprocal relationship with our surroundings.

 

Tasmin Petrie
Tasmin’s background is in Spanish and Italian studies, in which she obtained an Undergraduate degree from the University of Glasgow. She is now pursuing a Master’s in History of Art also at the University of Glasgow, in which the focus of her current research is the deployment of ritual, healing practices and the occult as tools against patriarchal oppression in the work of Latin American women artists. Her research also encompasses rewriting the art historical canon from an intersectional feminist perspective. Tasmin takes a particular interest in promoting contemporary Latina artists and strengthening inter-cultural dialogues between Latin America and Scotland. Her most recent project in collaboration with the Latin American community is ÚNA Festival, a multidisciplinary visual arts and culture festival dedicated to fostering transcultural exchanges and highlighting the narratives of Indigenous communities from both Latin America and Scotland.

 

My Gertrude Stein: Sunil Gangopadhyay—The Man Who Taught Me How to Write, an article by Subhadip Majumdar

25/09/2020
Calcutta, India

 

My Gertrude Stein: Sunil Gangopadhyay—The Man Who Taught Me How to Write

I was hardly a boy of nine when one autumn afternoon I picked up the prestigious annual children’s magazine, “Anandamela,” and started reading a young adult novel named, The Diamond of Vijaynagar (Vijaynagarer Hirey); it was my father—himself a voracious reader—who suggested the work to me. I was immediately hooked and even read it at night. Indeed, I had fallen in love with Kakababu, the central character, who was always in search of mystery and adventures. When, for the first time, I glanced at the name of the author who had written it, my life changed forever.

Sunil Gangopadhyay.

In two months I had finished reading all of Kakababu’s adventures. In my dream I saw him often, wondering: “Sunil Gangopadhyay himself was Kakababu?”

I asked my father; he said: “Sunil is perhaps the best writer of this generation. The more you grow up the more you will find him amazing.”

I realize now that my father was absolutely correct. Later, in my adolescent years I received a book called Those Days (Sei Shamay). “It is a masterpiece of Sunil. No one has written anything quite like it about Calcutta,” my father said.

“Is it a history book, Father?”

“No, son, it is a historical novel. Never in my life have I read such a glorious novel where all the historical personalities become characters of flesh and blood. Read it, my son.”

When I finished the big book, I cried, promising to myself that I would do everything in my power to meet Sunil Gangopadhyay.

****

It all began on a Sunday when I reached the tenth floor of the apartment named, Parijat (White Pigeons, also symbolizing flowers from heaven) where the legend, my favorite writer, Sunil, Sunil Gangopadhyay, stayed.

When I rung the bell, none other than Sunil opened the door and welcomed me inside in his deep, loud voice—Bhitore Aso!

I cannot describe the feeling of stepping into his house for the first time. I cannot describe the feeling of seeing him sign my Kakababu books for me. I cannot describe the feeling of hearing him ask: “Which one is your favorite?”

Sitting across from the legend—in awe and amazement—I could hardly talk.

The following Sunday I had a chance to visit him once more.

Getting into the elevator … the steps to the tenth floor … nine, ten.

And my eyes never failed to gaze at the nameplate … every time.

Sunil Gangopadhyay.

****

What can I really say about him? He is a dream—a never-ending film of images, a journey into continuous Deja vus. He is a Satyajit Ray script.

Fade in. Fade out.

Sunil—the man who traveled to America and won a scholarship from the celebrated International Writing Program of Iowa. The man who gave up whatever prospects he had in the New World, returning to Calcutta, jobless, alone, uncertain about everything but his confidence in himself as a writer Bengali literature. Sunil—the man who fell in love with a French girl named Margarite, whom he never can forget. She was the girl who made him fall in love with France—Paris is the city he frequented most of all. Was it a love for Paris? Was it the search for Margarite—to find her once more?

Sunil—the man who created scenes of corrupted Bengali society and with them gave birth to a new Bengal renaissance, no different than the one of Raja Rammohan Roy, Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, Debendranath Tagore, the birth of a new religion named Brahma; the first flame of the Indigo rebellion rising against the torture of British cultivators; the Young Bengal group who were against all forms of idol worship; among them the rise of talent like Kaliprasanna Singha who was the first person along with Vidyasagar to bring Bengali prose style and the modern Bengali language. Sunil, perhaps, embodied all these things.

Sunil …. Nillohit (his nom de plume), the eternal traveler who saw the world with a Bohemian soul.

Sunil—the man who wrote about the untimely death of Swami Vivekananda in his other masterpiece, Prothom Alo (First Light).

Sunil—the man who ignored Tagore and created a new style of Bengali literature—breaking rhythms, bringing colloquial language into poetry—the birth of a new poetry rebellion named Kritwibas of which he was the founder along with Shakti Chattopadhyay, Tarapada Roy and others.

Sunil—the man who was also inspired by Tagore, making him a character of Pratham Alo. Once he wrote: Tagore was mine. I will tear him, kill him, destroy him but at the next moment I will recite him word for word.

Sunil was my Gertrude Stein.

His door was always open to new writers and poets. Like Stein, Sunil had the same passion for guiding those who loved literature and art. In Kritwibas (the literary magazine which he founded and where I was fortunate enough to be published several times), he encouraged writers to be innovative in all sorts of ways.

And still, aside from writing, Sunil for me was a man who gave me all the freedom and light.

With the all the bad poetry I wrote in my youth, I ran to him and he always read them patiently. He never criticized. He had his own way of pointing out to a young poet what was wrong with the writing: “Why don’t you use an alternate word? Why don’t you think of the scene with a blue moon in the sky, with the sound of a rickshaw visiting the air?”

He loved the rain; he was that poet who becomes childishly excited by seeing it. He had a lovely voice for singing Tagore songs. I still remember his face one spring morning when he hummed Ai Udashi haoar pathe pathe (a famous Tagore song.)

He instilled in me a patient love for writing. Each time I rushed into his house, he called me straight into his study where he wrote. I always saw him writing. He wrote every morning (except on Sundays) and he was never tired of it.

He loved youth, women, and life but he also toyed with death. He was a devout atheist and often laughed at God. He did not care about anything except love, literature, and beauty. He worshipped beauty all his life.

All those numerous times I spoke with Sunil—the conversations were always about literature and art. Dostoevsky, Kafka, Neruda (his greatest inspiration), about Mark Twain, Picasso, Camille Pissarro, Auguste Renoir, Van Gogh and Rembrandt.

Sunil was a legend who met legends. He was among the Beats in Greenwich Village, living there for months in the shabby house of Allen Ginsberg open to all, where they chanted “Hare Rama Hare Krishna.” Jack Kerouac, Gregory Corso, Peter Orlovsky were all there. One story I cannot resist sharing which inspired the word Chobir Deshe, Kobitar Deshe (In the land of Painting, in the land of Poetry) about Gregory Corso.

Corso was the lifelong Bohemian while Sunil always lent money to friends who never gave it back. Ginsberg had already warned young poet not to give him any money; one evening, however, Corso asked Sunil for fifty dollars. Sunil gave it to him. Corso thanked him and left. Sunil only had twenty dollars left. It was his last night in Greenwich Village before he had to travel to Paris. Sunil came to regret his foolishness; at midnight, however, entered Gregory Corso, utterly drunk, and shouted, “Sunil, here is your 50 dollars! I will give you 60 with my best compliments!” I guess Corso did pay his friends back, and then some.

Sunil, Allen Ginsberg, and all the beats there were stunned. What they were seeing was a miracle! Gregory Corso—for the first time in life—returning money and the receiver was a young Bengali poet!

Sunil wrote a lot, mostly in the mornings with coffee in hand, just like Kerouac. He loved Allen Ginsberg, his friend. Allen Ginsberg even mentioned him in his poems. Once in “September on Jessore Road,” where he wrote: Is this what I did to myself in the past? / What shall I do Sunil Poet I asked?” Then also  in his last poem before death, “Things I’ll Not Do (Nostalgias),” where he wrote:

Never go to Bulgaria, had a booklet & invitation
Same Albania, invited last year, privately by Lottery scammers or
recovering alcoholics,
Or enlightened poets of the antique land of Hades Gates
Nor visit Lhasa live in Hilton or Ngawang Gelek’s household & weary
ascend Potala
Nor ever return to Kashi “oldest continuously habited city in the world”
bathe in Ganges & sit again at Manikarnika ghat with Peter,
visit Lord Jagganath again in Puri, never back to Bibhum take
notes tales of Khaki B Baba
Or hear music festivals in Madras with Philip
Or enter to have Chai with older Sunil & Young coffeeshop poets

I owe a lot to Sunil. He taught me to dream, to write: “Keep writing. Edit ruthlessly, cut everything unnecessary. Think a hundred times about the use of each word. Think of the characters and write when you can hear them whispering to you. Let whatever happens in your life happen—never stop writing. If you are disciplined, the words will be yours. Words will let you go out into the world and the more you will travel, the more you will write.”

I will write Sunil, until the very end, until the very last moment. I promise, because there is nothing that gives me more fulfilment than writing. I travel. I write. I write. I travel.

In Amsterdam, I still find Sunil talking with Dutch waitresses. I still find him at Apollinaire’s grave in Pere Lachaise. I find him at the juncture of a remote village in southern France named Poertiers, standing alone, searching for his French lover, Margarite. I find him in Rome, in Istanbul, in Chicago, in New York, and in our very own Santhal Parganas.

I still remember the moment when I reached Rome and walked out of the train station. The memory of young Sunil—when like me with almost no money he entered Rome and managed to find a small room in a cheap hotel.

Or when I reached Budapest. I left my backpack in the hostel and took the yellow number 61 to the bridge. Then I walked down to the river about which Sunil spoke so much that I always dreamt of it.

To this day, I still have the note he wrote me fourteen years ago: “Beauty is hidden within one’s own inner heart.”

On the 23rd of October, 2012 I was in Bangalore when I got the news that the previous autumn night of Maha Ashtami (an auspicious day of Durga Puja as per the Bengali calendar) he had passed away. I was numb. The phone trembled in my hand.

Only two months before in August my mother had suddenly passed away.

Now Sunil.

I was shocked.

Will you come? My sister asked me.

I decided instantly.

I will not come back to Calcutta to pay my last tribute to Sunil.

It seemed strange but I could not see Sunil dead.

When my mother died, I could not bear to see her either.

Sunil and Ma are still alive in me.

The next day I read his obituary in the paper.

“Born in Faridpur in present-day Bangladesh in 1934, Sunil Gangopadhyay went on to become one of the most popular Bengali writers on both sides of the border.

A prolific writer, Gangopadhyay authored more than 200 books over six decades, with his magnificent range of creations touching upon diverse segments like novels, children’s fiction, poetry, literary criticism, travelogue and essays.”

I was without words, but acceptance came slowly with time.

When I met Sunil, I was a confused Bengali boy looking for a job, a stable life. He brought out the authenticity in me. Like him in his novel, “Atmaprakash (Self -Revealation”), there came the real me.

“Write. Keep writing, Subhadip.”

Now, when I look back at those mornings and afternoons of the orange-colored sun, first occasional thunderstorms, and blue colored rain, I find myself fortunate. I am the one who had the moment of Providence with the greatest living legend of Bengali literature. “It is always the third line of a poem that is the hardest to write,” he would say. “I disdain immortality because of poetry.” I think, perhaps, I understand what he means now.

I continued meeting Sunil into my late twenties. He was old by then, but he still possessed an incredible capacity for writing even in that age. Many of his friends by then were long gone, but his loneliness was never apparent when he wrote.

I now recall one of Hemingway’s lines from The Old Man and The Sea: “Everything about him was old except his eyes, and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.”

Sunil was undefeated in that sense and what better way to end than with Sunil’s own words from his work, Dekha Holo Bhalobasa, Bedonay (Love, we meet in Pain).

“We, who have mixed moonlight in the Sun and sat by the river in darkness. We, who colored the grey and brought Spring-like lightning. We, who walked through the rain-washed Thonthoniya Kali Temple and reached the steps of heaven, We, who with our dance awake the midnight and laugh aloud …. Yet, we in history faded evenings roared in ecstasy and shout, How wonderful it is to live.”

 

About Subhadip Majumdar

Subhadip Majumdar is a writer and poet from India. He received an online certificate in Creative Writing from the University of Iowa. He was also a long-time editor for a reputed Bengali poetry journal. Subhadip also participated in the Tumbleweed program run by the Shakespeare and Company bookstore in Paris, France. His works are available for purchase on Amazon.