18. Raghvi Bhatia & Nadia Haji Omar
Raghvi Bhatia & Nadia Haji Omar discuss their shared interests in language, craft, and abstraction, the ways that the specific layered histories of the South Asian cities they grew up in influenced their work, and the influence of the spiritual in their practices.
Raghvi Bhatia (RB): Hi Nadia! I'm so excited to have this exchange with you. Although we have never met, I feel a deep sense of kinship with you, in part due to similar life experiences and in part due to our several shared interests - such as language, craft, and abstraction. I first came across your work on display at the RISD Museum while I was an undergraduate student. I was immediately captivated by how each mark you make is simultaneously precise and free, individual yet part of a whole. In our conversations, you mentioned that you "See (your) work as the most basic of forms- line and circle/dot and (you are) really interested in how to push that to its limit." A contemplation of the line and the circle/dot in your work reveals hidden stories of cultures, new and old, in which you are embedded. Can you talk more about what these two basic forms mean to you? How and when did you start working with them?
Nadia Haji Omar, ٦ (sitta), Acrylic and dye on canvas, 24 x 24 inches, 2019. Photo by Etienne Frossard. Courtesy of the artist and Kristen Lorello, NY
Nadia Haji Omar (NH): Hi Raghvi! I am so happy to have this conversation with you. Thank you for your kind words and observations about my work. I first saw your art on instagram and was instantly drawn to it. I love what you have shared with me since then. The aspects of your work that spoke to me the most are its' spiritual and tactile qualities. I think we share a similar sensibility, touch, and attention to detail. Even though we work in different mediums we are dealing with similar ideas and content.
I first started to incorporate the circle and dash/line motif into my work in 2015. My paintings in 2016 included them to a greater extent and by 2018 the entire surface of my paintings were covered in these marks. My intention was strictly technical yet my choice of mark was intuitive. I was interested in the concept of "Simultaneous Contrast" as developed by the French chemist Michel Eugène Chevreul. Simultaneous contrast refers to the way in which two different colors affect each other. The theory is that one color can change the way we perceive the tone and hue of another color when the two are placed side by side. The actual colors don't change but we see them as altered.
By using these simple tiny shapes I was able to experiment with color changes across the surface of my paintings. The "background" is often dyed over which hundreds or thousands of these smaller marks are overlaid. The circles and lines themselves are always centrally "dotted" with a different color. Therefore I was able to have three different colors be present simultaneously in a very small space, and to observe how they affect one another.
Over time the repetitive and meditative process inherent in making this kind of work won me over. I have since explored other optical effects and visual territories that are afforded by this type of mark making. It is worth mentioning that the circle and line lend themselves to repetition and if I had to I could trace my first use of the repeated short line/dash back to etching or intaglio in printmaking.
Could you please tell me about some of your material choices, especially the glass seed beads. When did you start working with them and why? Generally which types of materials do you find yourself gravitating towards?
Raghvi Bhatia, Stained, 2021; Fused Glass Seed Beads
RB: I grew up in Delhi, a city that was razed and rebuilt multiple times over, where each of its successive conquerors left traces of art, architecture, language, food and religion when they were conquered. I have always been intrigued by the way that the victors incorporated remnants of the cultures they vanquished, creating a polychromatic blend of cultures by building not over, but with, the material left behind. This catalyzed my interest in loan-words - words adopted from a donor language that are seamlessly incorporated into another language without translation - but also, in a similar vein, loan-patterns and loan-craft objects.
I would say I generally find myself gravitating to working with elements that have a rich history of being loaned and leased, due to changes in human geography caused by migration, invasion, or globalization. The glass seed beads are one such ‘loan-craft object’. In 2019, I was deeply invested in studying craft histories as well as glass processes. Through either chance or fate, I successively came across multiple objects from vastly different cultures and time that all incorporated glass seed beads in a multitude of differing ways, that culminated in a visit to the location (in south India) where the first glass seed beads were made, over 3000 years ago.
A deep dive into the history of the beads revealed how once the beads made their way to Europe, the Italian glass industry perfected the art of making them en masse. During European colonial endeavors, the beads spread to large swaths of the Americas, Africa and Asia, as they are practically indestructible despite being made of glass. Often used as currency, the beads became a vehicle for colonization, while indigenous communities adopted and seamlessly incorporated the bead into existing religious and craft traditions, using the beads to adorn the objects of foremost importance.
I think there is a certain violence, beauty and gravity embedded in each bead. At the same time, there is something intuitive about working with the beads for image-making, as singular units that make up a whole - like pixels or stitches (or dots!). The process of working with the beads is extremely labor intensive, but this sort of devotional labor is pivotal to my exploration of the beads as a unit of time, labor, and faith. In my work, I fuse the beads together, creating delicate glass tapestries, subverting the resilience of the beads that made them ubiquitous.
How about you? I know you have been working with gemstone inclusions in some of your new work, how did you start working with those new materials? Has working with the gemstones been similar or different to your intuitive way of working with the line and circle/dot?
Nadia Haji Omar, Pink Grid, Acrylic, dye and malachite on panel, 24 x 18 inches, 2020. Photo by Charles Benton. Courtesy of the artist and Kristen Lorello, NY
NH: That is fascinating! I mentioned to you that I recently started a new body of work using glass seed beads and it is wonderful to learn so much about the history of this material. The way you work with the beads is even more meaningful and beautiful within this context. It is also interesting that beads are one of the first craft materials a child gets to play with (beads on wire toys etc). The act of stringing beads on a thread feels like both an instinctive and ancient activity.
I can relate to a lot of what you describe about living in Delhi. I grew up in Colombo, Sri Lanka and it has a similar history of colonization as India (Dutch, Portuguese and British). Certainly I absorbed the traces left behind by the blending and merging of these cultures. The vivid colors and cacophony of multilingual text (Sinhalese, Tamil and English) and images on road side signs are deeply embedded in my mind. This has found its way into my work and has been a recurring theme for several years now.
Living in many different places makes you more aware of the distinct visual characteristics of each location. There is less time for the familiar to set in and be taken for granted. Every time I am living in a new place it takes a long time for the imagery around me to feel familiar. The sensation of being a stranger in a foreign place can be inspiring as much as it is bewildering.
The gemstones are a recent addition to my paintings, I have been including them in my work since 2019. I have always had an affinity for multiples of little things, like pebbles, beads, grains etc. I wanted to include a relief aspect in my paintings and decided to try some semi-precious gemstones in beautiful naturally occurring colors. They all have different spiritual meanings and properties.
I treat them like a drawing tool, usually arranged in lines or grids. I enjoy adding an irregular shaped element to these paintings with their otherwise rigid uniformity of lines and circles. Yet the pieces are so small that they (hopefully) don't overpower the rest of the painted surface. I am still exploring this new material. I love having a piece of the natural world present, active and preserved in my work.
This leads to my next question for you which is about spirituality, religion and devotion. Could you speak about your personal beliefs, systems or any related interests? How do these manifest in or influence your work?
RB: First off - I cannot tell you how much I relate to your “affinity for multiples of little things”! I think it definitely makes sense considering our mutual proclivity for drawing inspiration from language, textiles and patterns. I wonder if this has something to do with what you said about being a stranger in a new place? Perhaps seeking and finding patterns (even in the littlest things) offers a sense of solace in the bewilderment of new surroundings.
To answer your question, I think no matter one’s age, geography, ethnicity or culture, everyone’s life (diet, calendars, working hours, education systems, clothing, etc.) is heavily influenced by religion, despite what one’s personal beliefs may be. At the same time, I also believe that in some parts of the world this can be observed more clearly, and I think South Asia is one such part of the world. This palpable importance of religion in daily life combined with the rigidity with which a lot of people (theists and atheists) approach religion is one of the reasons why I am so interested in working with the concept of religion. In the art world and in the real world, we lack a vocabulary to talk about religion unless it is with people who have similar beliefs as us. This leads to either a complete lack of conversations around the subject, or conversations wherein we tiptoe around subjects that should be approached head on. That is the reason why I frame my artistic practice as a religious sect - when I first say this to people, everyone thinks it is amusing. But I do not say it ironically, and the amusement often turns into discomfort. It has definitely been equal parts rewarding and challenging for me to work in this way while avoiding all of the tropes of being an Indian artist making work about religion, spirituality or craft. Do you also face the challenge of avoiding tropes, or being boxed into creating the work that is expected of you because of your gender/racial/ethnic/religious identity?
Personally, my beliefs are fluid and regularly shift, but I think I would say that I am an atheist, in a narrow sense - I do not believe in a theistic God. In a broader sense I would say I am agnostic - I have neither a belief nor a disbelief in the existence of any/all divine beings. However, I grew up in a family where almost everyone was a practicing, upper-caste Hindu, my education and socialization happened in largely the same context as well. So my religious sensibilities were informed through that lens. It has taken a huge amount of conscious effort for me to be able to even begin unlearning the harmful ideas of purity, morality, absolution and hierarchies that I absorbed. At the same time, I am acutely aware of the power of symbols, stories and rituals, especially when combined with the power of belief. I use these elements in my work to create my practice-as-sect, to upend conventional conceptions of religion and art, and create a coherent worldview to organize my practice and govern my work. This happens in a myriad of different ways - I have constructed new rituals for my sect, developed a new craft of working with the glass seed beads by fusing them, and created a new sacred language. The language is based on the Moorish mosaic craft of Zellige, has a radial sentence structure, and is heavily influenced by local dialects. In many ways, it is a manifestation of the tenets of my religion - non-linear, rooted in material histories, local, stemming from nature and the body.
How about you? Do you have any belief systems that inform your work?
Raghvi Bhatia, Altar for Collective Mourning, 2021; Fused Glass Seed Beads, Steel, Porcelain
NH: Very interesting, I agree most people aren't aware how much of our lives are shaped by religion despite (a lack of) personal beliefs. I also agree that the spiritual aspect of life is so much more visible in Asia. Even the other life processes such as birth, aging and death are more widely acknowledged and exposed than in Western society.
I asked this question because as you mentioned I find myself hesitant to speak to people about this aspect of my work. Although my belief systems can be very obvious in some of my work, I have kept this part of myself mostly private. It is difficult to find the right language to speak about it. I greatly admire that you frame your art practice as a "religious sect" and I hope that it will help to open up this topic for other artists like myself.
I was raised in a household split between Islam and Christianity, with attention and observances given to both. When I was old enough to understand it the focus of my faith was in Islam and I identified as a Muslim. However, the backdrop or context for this was Sri Lanka, a country which is 70% Buddhist and 12% Hindu, with other religions making up the minority. I was fortunate to have friends who spoke openly about their beliefs. I was also able to witness various types of religious rituals and festivals that were celebrated publicly around the country. As I grew older my interest in all major religions expanded and my interest remains strong.
My art practice has always felt like a deep meditation, a way to be silent, connect with myself and a larger entity, energy or force. Both art and religion are concerned with the ideas of peace, compassion and unity. I wonder if perhaps many of us subconsciously frame our "practices-as-sect", we just don't have the courage or vocabulary to express it as you so powerfully do.
I do think that I have found one way, a small way, to subvert some of the tropes about myself as a "multicultural" artist and that is through the process of asemic writing. When I first decided to include text based elements in my work through the use of other languages (Sinhalese, Tamil, Arabic etc) I also wanted to include an abstract, non-referential language of my own. I saw a way to do this through the use of asemic writing. Asemic writing is a wordless open semantic form of writing. The word asemic means "having no specific semantic content", or "without the smallest unit of meaning".
This was wonderful and I learned so much, thank you!
Raghvi Bhatia is an artist who considers the artistic experience as analogous to rituals: of searching for the sacred, of visiting religious institutions, and of questioning existence. Bhatia earned a BFA in Glass from the Rhode Island School of Design where she developed her artistic practice as a religious sect. Her ascetic and aesthetic philosophy explores similarities between glass, skin, and water–materials that are at once enduring and fragile.
raghvi.work @raghvib
Nadia Haji Omar's paintings and works on paper explore the intersection of language and abstract painting. Inspired by an ongoing research of scripts that include Sinhalese, Tamil, Arabic, and French, her intricate imagery combines inventive linguistic characters with references to landscape, mapping, and textile patterning. Haji Omar received a MFA from the School of Visual Arts in 2014 and a BA from Bard College. Her works have been discussed in New York Magazine/Vulture, and Hyperallergic, among other publications, and are included in the collections of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI, and the Hallmark Art Collection, Kansas City, MO, among others.
www.nadiahajiomar.com @nadiahajiomar