Before leaving, in conversation with Aaron Cezar, the founding Director at Delfina, his keen observation of the substantial Bengali presence at the opening forced me into introspection: indeed, my own presence here was driven by a selfish yearning to understand my lineage and confront the ghosts of my people, who often have been relegated to the margins of history. Engaging with Bose's work transcends the mere act of remembering; it becomes a journey of self-discovery and communal healing, a reclaiming of our cultural heritage. writes Riddhi Dasgupta.
Soumya Sankar Bose. From the series ‘A Discreet Exit Through Darkness’, 2020–ongoing. Courtesy the artist and Experimenter, Kolkata & Mumbai
On a Tuesday afternoon in mid-May, I found myself seated at an exceptionally long table overlooking an extensive home-cooked spread. This intimate press lunch was a fortunate prelude to the bustling opening night of Soumya Sankar Bose's Braiding Dusk and Dawn. A gentle anticipation and clink of glasses commemorated the culmination of a four-year journey that has led to Bose's inaugural international solo exhibition at the Delfina Foundation. Bose had been an artist-in-residence at the foundation in 2022, a non-profit that exclusively showcases the work of its residents, particularly those exhibiting for the first time and often from the global majority.
The exhibition is anchored in a deeply personal theme: the disappearance of Bose's mother in 1969 when she was nine years old, a mysterious absence stretching approximately three years. The exact duration remains shrouded in ambiguity due to her prosopagnosia (face blindness), a condition that veils her memories of that era. This tragedy is further compounded by the passing of Bose's grandfather in 1971, denying him the solace of reuniting with his daughter. However, Bose's narrative transcends the confines of a familial tale and is interwoven with the tumultuous socio-political tapestry of the time, particularly the aftermath of partition in West Bengal, India. The story unfolds through a fusion of mediums: a collection of photographs paired with two films, each offering a unique perspective of the event—one through the lens of Bose's grandfather and the other through his mother.
Soumya Sankar Bose, Braiding dusk and dawn, 2024. Photography courtesy of Tim Bowditch.
Before stepping foot into the 1,650 sqft. exhibition space, guests are handed a brochure containing a glimpse into the thematic depth of the work and an interview between Curator Erin Li and Bose. Armed with torches, the experience feels exploratory and thrilling, akin to a modern-day spelunking adventure. "It took two weeks to set up," shares Gillean Dickie, the Director of Operations, revealing the meticulous behind-the-scenes dedication. And so, the immersion begins: a darkened room with three screens, beanbags, a giant sofa, and three gaming chairs for VR. The ambience radiates extreme relaxation, perhaps essential because the content itself can trigger some darker depths of the human psyche.
I began my exploration by perusing the photographic works scattered throughout the space before starting the 360° VR film A Discreet Exit Through Darkness, watching approximately half of its 51-minute runtime. The experience was both captivating and, admittedly, a bit cumbersome as I wrestled with fitting the headset comfortably while swivelling around continuously in my chair—a task easier said than done. Soon enough, I found myself slipping into an experience that blurred the lines between reality and imagination, past and present, as the anguished psyche of Bose's grandfather became my own. Bose intended to craft a diary from his grandfather's perspective, and he achieved this by creating an immersive world using the elder's photographs as the foundation. He then weaves together missing memories with stories gleaned from relatives and neighbours, infusing them with elements of local folk stories such as apparitions of demons, ghosts, or bird-masked creatures. I walked through decayed, roofless structures and corridors of memory and myth, accompanied by haunting sounds of rain and patchy reports of politically charged outbursts crackling through the radio. Then, I turn my attention to the three-channel film Things We Lost Last Night, a 59-minute opus told from Bose's mother's perspective as she disjointedly recalls broken memories of her own disappearance. Both films are a product of meticulous research, with Bose drawing from intimate interviews, excavations of police records chronicling disappearances, and deep dives into archival records at the British Library. The result is a conduit that transports us back to 1969, offering a visceral glimpse into the tumultuous era of post-partition Bengal.
Soumya Sankar Bose, Things We Lost Last Night, 2024. Three-channel video still. Images courtesy of Delfina.
The fusion of fact and fiction epitomises Bose's signature style, echoing through his entire body of work. His presentation is complex yet unpretentious, mirroring the multi-award-winning Magnum Foundation grantee's demeanour—a stark departure from the stereotype of the arrogant artist. We chit-chat in Bengali for a while, and it feels grounding. This project was his first time working with film, a deviation from his established artistic repertoire. He highlights the limitations and constraints of traditional photography in conveying stories. "While growing up in Midnapore, I wanted to be a writer, but I only know how to write in Bangla." he explains, "So, photography became the medium through which I could share my stories. However, I thought a mix of visuals and text was necessary for this project. I chose film because I don't want to restrict myself to any medium. I can expand and adapt to convey what's necessary. This project was a way to know my own history because I have no idea where I'm from. So, while it started as a photography project, the VR and film just happened as a trust-the-process, go-with-the-flow kind of thing. When transcribing all the interviews, I got to fulfil my dream of being a writer."
Artist Soumya Sankar Bose. Photo credit Tim Bowditch
I must confess that the notion of integrating VR into the ambience of art exhibitions left me pondering: what would a seamless integration of this technology look like, especially when faced with the realities of footfall and time constraints? After all, the success of an exhibition relies not solely on the art itself but also on the effective dissemination of its message—a task made even more intricate with the nuances of VR engagement. When I queried Helen Gale, overseeing communications for the exhibition, she admitted that this venture marked her first foray into implementing a VR experience in her seven years of experience, expressing uncertainty about its reception. "We'll see," she mused with cautious optimism.
Soumya Sankar Bose, Braiding dusk and dawn, 2024. Photo credit Murtalip Kalach.
So, I returned for the official opening in the evening, curious to observe how attendees would interact with the art amidst a crowded space. The website had issued a disclaimer forewarning visitors: "Please note, due to the anticipated volume of attendees, we will only be offering a 3-minute excerpt of the VR work." Many attendees voiced frustration at the VR's limited accessibility, feeling only a fleeting glimpse without true immersion. It's paradoxical: VR promises heightened immersion, yet improper execution can leave one unsatisfied. While the art itself didn't falter, it stopped short, leaving the audience yearning for a deeper, more immersive engagement with the stories being told. This opening night experience compelled one to return for further exploration. Other days may offer a better opportunity to fully engage with Bose's work, nevertheless I found myself moving around the space, engaged in discussions about colonialism, cultural nuances, shared histories of violence worldwide, and the importance of preserving memories.
Before leaving, in conversation with Aaron Cezar, the founding Director at Delfina, his keen observation of the substantial Bengali presence at the opening forced me into introspection. Indeed, my own presence here was driven by a selfish yearning to understand my lineage and confront the ghosts of my people, who often have been relegated to the margins of history. I am Indian Bengali. Both sets of my grandparents have endured the tumultuous waves of one of history's largest population movements—the partition migration, a displacement imposed by the Radcliffe Line. Bose's work struck a personal chord, reminding me of a line from Aanchal Malhotra's seminal book Remnants of a Seperation (2017): "In a story where there's communal trauma, there is no one story. There are many." We, the inheritors of violent pasts, are all bound by collective pain, a mosaic of individual stories converging to shape our shared identity. Engaging with Bose's work transcends the mere act of remembering; it becomes a journey of self-discovery and communal healing, a reclaiming of our cultural heritage. It invokes a sense of nostalgia, but the reminiscence is not of grandeur but of pain, a stark reminder of societies scarred by violence. It's an irony not lost on me as I contemplate this from the heart of London, a hundred metres away from Buckingham Palace—a symbol of the very power that inflicted our colonial wounds. In this historic epicentre, I wonder: do our stories matter more when voiced in spaces that once silenced us?
Braiding Dusk and Dawn shows at Delfina Foundation from 15 May – 7 July 2024.
Riddhi Dasgupta is a London-based writer & third culture kid who loves exploring the intersection of market, creatvitiy, and society. She has a background as a marketer and fashion creative, plus an MA from King's College London in Cultural & Creative Industries.
