ANANDVAN ARTIST RESIDENCY: PART 2

Reflections from my Artist Residency Feb 2025

Time is an elusive companion. Here I am, en route home from my month-long residency in Banaras. I was nervous about being away for so long, and unsurprisingly, my time in India flew by. 

 By Basant Panchami, the spring festival when people wear yellow mirroring the mustard fields at this time of the year, the city has warmed. All month, the garden continued to be a refuge for me. With the heat, the jasmine flowers were emanating their sweet, musky scent through my open windows, making my walking meditations intoxicatingly pleasant! Thank goodness for this beauty as the din of traffic was non-stop throughout the city until I left. 

Funnily, my whole residency was during the busiest time in Banaras, ending on Shivratri, the day after I left! A big part of my experience was learning how to stay centred and grounded in the midst of chaos and noise. There was a particularly tender visit with Manju didi (Kabir/non-dualism mentor) when I confessed my frustration: “how can I make art in this chaos?”, "I can barely get around and it takes so much time to recover after an outing?!” She reminded me that the making happens when it’s the right time. My job is to attend to what’s present and be in inquiry, to stay in process rather than push toward doing.  Tears, relief, letting go of expectations, I left that visit open and softened, walked across the Theosophical Society’s quiet grounds, then stepped back into the main road and joined the crowded street: people walking shoulder to shoulder, women and men with luggage on their heads, shoulders, dust and dirt flying around, heat, and honking. Yet, I felt an inner stillness and joy that is rarely present for me in such loud external spaces. I was beaming and brimming with joyful tears as I walked in the flow of humanity, becoming and allowing all the messiness, joy and fullness to move through me. 

If you can’t beat them, join them. After that, I decided to throw caution to the wind and get around the easiest way possible - by Uber motorbike. There were many hair-raisingly exhilarating and frightening rides where I laughed all the way to my destination (otherwise I’d be crying!) and leaned into trusting the flow of traffic and my driver.  There’s such a finessed way of driving in India, it certainly looks like there’s no rules, but most drivers are keenly aware of each other, moving like a school of fish, rather than individual drivers.  This means we get really close to each other and touch shoulders or bumpers sometimes but it works somehow.  Not quiet, not always efficient, but like one body moving together, not afraid to get close.

Basant Panchami yellow - welcoming spring

Travellers walking alongside traffic

 Looking back on my month, my friendship and time with Manju didi was one of the biggest highlights of my residency. Each week we sat in her garden talking about creative and spiritual practice. She reminded me to be connected to my art without reinforcing a separate “me”: to ask instead how the divine wishes to express itself through me. When I’m trying to figure out my project and struggling, it's often because I am attached to my own ideas of how it “should” be. Allowing, receiving, flowing - these are the qualities she calls essential.  She is a major nature lover and I read her a few Mary Oliver poems, which delighted her. It was so lovely to introduce her to a new poet and someone I love a lot. On our last visit we exchanged poems and spiritual conversation in her garden, soaking in the sunshine and birdsong. Bliss! Anand! Tears and joy flowed as we gazed into each other’s eyes, our words seemed to touch a bigger, mysterious truth. I am deeply grateful for this friendship and time with her.  She blew me away when I asked her: do you go to visit the ghats or call yourself a Krishnamurti or Kabir follower? How do you identify your practice? She answered “I don’t have to go anywhere to be in devotion, no ghat or temple, it’s all inside me. And I don’t follow anyone, why limit myself? There are so many teachers, why label myself?” How incredible! In a world asking us to define and label ourselves and to run to external places to worship, this woman is radically reminding me that worship and liberation is possible right where I am. Nowhere to go but in. 

Sharar asa fana amadah bar khez

Bayafhsan daman-o-azadah bar chez


Rise to be extinguished in an instant like a spark

dust your shirt, be free.

  - Ghalib

Manju Didi reading me a poem 

Morning bathers at the ghats of Banaras

Another highlight of my time in Banaras was visiting Sarnath, where Buddha gave his first sermon after attaining enlightenment under the Mahabodhi tree in Bodhgaya. After weeks of walking toward Varanasi, he rejoined his companions who had once embraced extreme renunciation at the deer park in Varanasi/Sarnath and shared his teachings of the middle path and the four Noble Truths. Visiting this sacred site was very emotional for me. It was so peaceful and moving in contrast to the city’s intensity. The site radiated stillness: monks gathered on the grass chanting, space, greenery, ruins of an ancient monastery and a palpable sense of reverence and quiet. I sat under a tree, meditated, and soaked in the energy of this sacred site. The very ground where the Wheel of the Dharma began to spin, the teachings that have offered me so much inner freedom.  

I also got to visit a Kabir Ashram/Museum that has Kabir’s original loom, his water matka, the tomb of his parents and a shrine. So many teachings everywhere in our world and wise ones to learn from.The boatman on the Ganga, the kind motorcycle driver offering extra time and care, the strangers who let me hop into their rickshaw and ride all the way home on their dime when I couldn’t get a ride, the kind smile from the young woman peering out her dark doorway in her small brick home next to the gas station on the busy road.

Moko kahan dhoondhe re bande, main to tere paase mein

Where do you search for me?  I am within you.

- Kabir

In the studio, I continued to stitch and research images of the waterways that I am connected to. The Ganga-Yamuna confluence merging into Lake Ontario/Niagara River, the Salish Sea flowing into the Great Lakes, and the Ganga Yamuna into the Salish Sea. I transferred this drawing onto fabric to embroider and refreshed my zardozi technique with Majid Bhai - an embroiderer delighted to host a fellow Muslim artist. We stitched in his tiny workshop with the local imam reciting Qur’an and chatted about our lives. They were very curious about my life and my family. I know that I could do this, visit as a woman with these men in their shop, being an outsider allowed me to bend certain rules. They were so delighted to call me a sister and insisted on chai each time, offering me gifts of local medicine and embroidery supplies to take home. It’s a gift to be at the edge, to be an outsider moving between cultural centres, as it gives me the opportunity to break “rules” and step into these men’s lives and spaces with curiosity and care. I know they were intrigued by my family, that I had married a man of English/Scottish/Irish descent and that our that our household held a mixture of cultural and spiritual inheritances.  There may have been judgement, yet there was also respect and curiosity.  Cultural exchange unfolded between us, our perceptions widening as we stitched and got to know each other.

This shift in perception and questioning occurred again when I offered an embroidery workshop at a local non-profit school run by Petra’s friend, my residency host. The school serves mostly poor Muslim children from a city slum. We did introductions and the kids were surprised that part of my identity is Muslim. “You don’t sound or look Muslim, ma’am!” said one child.  I asked “what does a Muslim look and sound like?” They were flabbergasted, surely Muslims were just like them.? So many conditioned beliefs we all carry around language and appearances. The workshop was a joy; to be around the energy of the children, so happy to be learning. We talked about the calming effect of stitching; many of them had never stitched before.  As we stitched, we shared what calms us, where and how we feel safe, many of the students named school as their safe space.

I was able to visit with Hasin Mohamad Ji again and spend some time filming Ishtiaque, the young weaver and recording sounds. The sound of the handloom has a beautiful rhythm and I hope to incorporate these sounds and recitations into an upcoming installation.

Hearing the loom as a time keeper, weaving time, memory, life.  How do plant relatives, water, ancestors and consciousness weave us into the beings that we are becoming? What is the golden thread that binds it all? I have so many more questions and inquiries from everything that I’ve witnessed and experienced here. How to give shape to the mystery and light all around me? 

The morning light on the Ganga, rising sun illuminating crowds of boats and bathers, ancestral joy and gratitude

Manju Didi reminded me that Kashi/Banaras is not a city to ask questions of, it’s a city to experience. I heard this from other people too. Kashi will give you what you need, a teacher offering lessons as you are ready. As I digest this past month, I am grateful for all the beings that held me here and hold me at my home on Lək̓ʷəŋən Territory. I missed Chris, Aisha and Cairo, and I love them all so much for supporting me to go and do the work I need to do to connect deeply to my creative practice. I feel so connected to my community in Victoria, and am excited to be back in time for Ramadan to be with my chosen family of beloveds, to be connected to the light and spirit in the land and water where I live. 

May all beings be safe and protected during this holy month, may all beings know the truth of oneness, may we all be happy and free.

Anandvan Artist Residency: Part 1

Reflections from my recent Artist Residency Feb 2025

I left Victoria doubtful, nervous and uncertain about being away from my beloved family and friends for five weeks. I was surprised to discover these difficult feelings, as I have been dreaming about returning to India since my time there last year. It was hard to untangle myself from all the attachments - family, safety, the comfort of what’s familiar and known. What if I didn’t like my residency? What if this trip wasn’t as fabulous as last year's? All these anxious questions circling in my mind, trying to offer a false sense of control by questioning and what if-ing everything. Onward I went, fears and anxieties in hand!

I had a few days in Delhi first. I landed with sadness seeing the pollution in the air, and joy to be reconnected with my dear friend/brother Himanshu.  Delhi is so incredible with its varied neighbourhoods, Mughal monuments, parks that have beautiful trees and also ruins from the 1100’s nested among them. I was determined to ride the metro as much as possible to avoid contributing to the single passenger in a car problem.  The metro is so great - clean, good connectivity and offers incredible people-watching. There is always so much happening: young folks hustling, aunties and uncles going home with their shopping, babies sleeping, and phones ringing everywhere. I sat next to a man on the metro who was sharing with someone all about his trip to Mecca and Medina, “hanh, hanh, hum nay bhee Jannat e Sharif dekha (Yes, of course, we went and saw the Prophet’s Mosque!)” Crowded cars, where we stand shoulder to shoulder, in the stream of life, together with all its unfolding.

Other highlights from my time in Delhi included an evening at the Dargah (Sufi Shrine) with my new friend, Shobhit, whom I met through Himanshu. An instant brother, we offered roses to the shrine (well Shobhit offered mine, as women weren’t allowed in the burial shrine itself). I loved having my Hindu raised brother offering prayers on my behalf. We spent the evening in contemplation, chatting about religion, the Ganga-Yamuna tehzeeb (the Ganga/Yamuna culture/Muslim/Hindu composite culture of India) and its importance in these divisive times. I also visited the Partition Museum to understand more about what my father might have experienced as a young boy and the histories of both my parents’ families. I spent a morning in Hauz Khas Deer Park, watching a colony of sleeping bats and admiring the gorgeous ruins, before flying to Varanasi.

On my first morning in Banaras, I made my way to the Ganga (Ganges River). A series of narrow alleys and lanes wind their way like a labyrinth to the riverside and leading you to the various ghats (riverside steps). Most of Banaras’s riverside is built up on the west side, with steps leading down to the river for bathing or spreading ashes. The Ganga is wide and gently flowing here in early spring in Banaras. It’s also been madly crowded due to the Maha Kumbh Mela overflow, with motorboats humming down the river and crowds waiting to bathe.

A couple of days later, I returned for a sunrise walk with our artist group and host/guide Ajay. Amidst the crowds on the banks of the river, the rising red sun pierced through the din, and entranced me in an awestruck silence. I went back to the Ganga a week later to watch the full moon rise. Alone, I sat for a long time watching, meditating, wondering all that has flowed through and on this river. My parents and ancestors were born and lived downstream, just a few hundred kilometres away. Countless wise teachers have shared their teachings along this river and in this city. Banaras, also known as Kashi (The City of Light), is a sacred city for Hindus, and also an important city for Sufi and Bhakti teachers. Ghalib stayed and wrote here, Kabir was born here and taught on the ghats, Ravidas taught here as well. As I walked along the riverside, It was humbling to think of all the teachings and sacred growth that have unfolded here.

On the full moon night, I was able to sit quietly for about 45 mins and then a group gathered on the steps. A man with a loudspeaker offered bhajans/devotional songs and spoke about the right to have an evening aarti ceremony at this particular ghat, declaring that this is Banaras, and that it should be a right. I learned there are designated ghats for public aarti ceremonies. I could sense the hint of Hindu Nationalism from this young man, as he was getting quite worked up. Watching the crowds, I thought of Kabir, who criticized attachment to ritual and external practices. He emphasized a personal and introspective spiritual practice. Who’s to know the intentions of all those gathered on the ghats that night, but Kabir’s words bear reflecting on. The evening aarti, nonetheless, was beautiful; offering fire to the river in gratitude and devotion. I kept my eyes on the horizon at 75 degrees East, to watch the moon come up. It appeared during the aarti ceremony, a goddess in the night sky, I pointed it out to everyone sitting beside me in excitement.  Moon magic and sacred fire amidst the neon lit motorboats on the river and dense crowds.  

 

Where do you search me?

I am with you

Not in pilgrimage, nor in icons

Neither in solitudes

Not in temples, nor in mosques

Neither in Kaba nor in Kailash

I am with you O being

I am with you

Not in prayers, nor in meditation

Neiter in fasting

Not in yogic exercises

Neither in renunciation

Neither in the vital force nor in the body

Not even in the ethereal space

Neither in the womb of Nature

Not in the breah of the breath

Seek earnestly and discover

In but a moment of search

Says Kabir, Listen with care

Where your faith is, I am there.

-Kabir

 

Two weeks ago, I arrived in Banaras at the Anandvan Residency, hosted by the Banaras Cultural Foundation. Navneet, who was born and raised in Banaras, dreamed up this space with his partner Petra and their friend Ajay. Anandvan meaning “Forest of Bliss,” is an incredible refuge with organic garden that nourishes us, right in the heart of the city. We’re about 10-15 minutes from the ghats/riverside when traffic is light, though my timing overlapped with the Maha Kumbh Mela - a major pilgrimage time for Hindus to bathe and offer worship at the site of the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati Rivers in Allahabad, 90 kms away. Many sadhus and pilgrims come to Banaras after their ritual bathing in Allahbad, so the city has been insanely busy.  

The Forest of Bliss exists within a cloud of constant honking, traffic jams, and a river of humanity making its way to the Ganga! I watched all my aversion and anxieties around the busyness emerge and challenge me the first week. Getting anywhere was quite a challenge. The first week was incredibly full: adjusting, settling in, negotiating traffic and noise. The banana trees, neem trees, tulsi, nightingales, hibiscus, jasmine, roses and chipmunks at Anandvan remind me that beauty and calmness can exist amidst chaos. So much opportunity for mindfulness practice! This residency has felt like a vipassana retreat of sorts. There are four of us artists: two painters (G from the UK and Stephen from NYC) and Chaz, a singer/songwriter from the UK.  We are all committed to our creative practices, socializing at mealtimes and then giving each other space to work in our studios. Having a community of artists who are deeply committed to practice keeps me motivated and provides a supportive structure for the creative process. I have been writing, sketching, sewing alongside sitting and walking practice in the garden. For so many years, I felt I couldn’t attend artist residencies while raising my family, as I was already away for meditation retreats. I’m grateful for this time of both creative and spiritual practice.

I had the chance to visit with master silk weaver, Haseen Mohamad Ji and learn about the Banarasi sari weaving. I got to sit at the loom and try my hand at weaving. Did you know that looms are often considered the first computers? The Jacquard uses cards with binary punch codes to create the pattern.  

I have also visited with Shrimati Manju Ji, a singer and professor of Kabir’s work. She sang for me, shared her teachings and moved me to tears (in a good way). She is so grounded, kind, and wise. I am seeing her again tomorrow. 

In the studio, all these experiences are emerging as sketches and ideas for experiments. I’ve been stitching a ground of tana (warp) and will soon stitch all the waterways I come from as the bana (weft). What does a Ganga/Yamuna/Niagara/Salish Sea tehzeeb (culture) look like? Little weaving exercises, writings, reading Ghalib and Kabir, recording the gestures of weaving and stitching. This week, I plan to visit the flower market to buy more flower garlands and create a living loom out of roses. I’m telling myself to try different things, mess around, and play.  

 

Wash and Fold: new work in progress

Wash and Fold: revelatory housekeeping during an age of pandemic and racial injustice

A and F handwash with soap 1.png

I’m excited to share a new video I’m presenting through the Art Gallery of Greater Victoria on the national arts platform Fieldtrip. Wash and Fold highlights ideas I’m working with in new video and performance works I’m developing with Aisha and my parents.

The process of sharing my process was challenging and illuminating. I draw from everything around me, often the invisible materials of life like relationships, felt senses of spaces, and the longings of my heart. I get personal in this video sharing what’s been coming up for me in this time of home retreating during the pandemic: navigating parenting a teenager, being far from my mother and my father and witnessing systemic violence being called out.

Filming with Kyra Kordoski and Aisha at home during a pandemic was tender and caring, wearing masks, we washed each others hands and feet and folded laundry. When I watch the footage, I begin to see the language between our bodies, cloth and soap.

it takes friction

to create a lather

holding this body

in a slippery space

between us

vanishing

as we listen

washing

what can’t be seen

still from Wash and Fold, work in progress with Aisha Haq

still from Wash and Fold, work in progress with Aisha Haq