studies in chopping up the tabla

The top face of a tree stump is photographed from above. At its centre is a perfectly round image of my grandfather reading a newspaper. The round image has its own outer ring of a separate darker brown trunk.
A perfectly round image of my grandfather with a ringed frame of a chopped tree trunk. This image is taken from the previous image and made larger to expose some details. These include the wooden wall of his house, the newspaper he is engrossed in and the sepia tint of his spectacles.
Another tree stump holds another perfectly round family photo. This tree stump has greying-green moss at its sides and a little on its cut trunk. The image at the centre is of my father and his three brothers. Their image is framed by another chopped tree trunk that is brighter and more yellow in colour.
A perfectly round image of my father and his brothers with a ringed frame of a chopped tree trunk. This image is taken from the previous image and made larger to expose some details. These include the wicked afro of my uncle, the fullness of three Pakistani moustaches and the intimacy of their holding each other.

studies in chopping up the tabla

these studies are produced by pushing family photos into images of chopped trees < these trees are located in the Harz Mountains in Germany where the bark beetle has destroyed local forests < amongst the decay and disease wild flowers and grasses < growback >

< the bark beetle is a kind of predatory invader to the forest < “nature” has its own forms of violent destruction < reoccupation of habitat < re-inscription of its role < colonialism >

< normally a tree would be able to ward off the beetle by producing its own resin < but increased heat and drought have weakened this defense < many trees are dying < many trees are being chopped down < chopping >

< roots in the ground remain as the wood is chopped and moved elsewhere> < chopping >

< the stump is a sign of this dislocation < a mark of my departure >

< the stump becomes the image of the tabla face < except it misses the syahi < the syahi is the blackened tuning paste in the center of the drum < the syahi is the pupil of the eye > < in the iris >

< in the iris < my father and his brothers < my grandfather alone < the generational split that I never knew < their relationship with the looking lens < the brothers facing the eye of the camera < the father lost in his work < neither looking at each other < both brothers and father >

< in my eyes >

< in my eyes < as I walk>

< at the rhythm and pace of a tabla>

< through the dying forest < and mystifying growback >

< Back

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.