The Bhopal Gas Disaster,
disappearing North Eastern tribes, tiger conservation and the afflictions of
the elderly are all explored by Samar Singh Jodha in his photographs. He talks
to Gopika Nath about what drives him
to work on marginalised communities.
Gopika Nath: From advertising and high fashion to the Bhopal Gas Tragedy
– how did this shift take place? Was it a prick of the conscience?
In 1993, I worked on a book with Aman Nath called Jaipur: The Last Destination and then on
Costumes and Textiles of Royal India with
Ritu Kumar. Through these projects I saw another India . In 1994, I started working
with Mobile Creches and HelpAge India .
The latter led to the work I presented in 1999, namely, Ageless Mind and Spirit: Faces and
Voices from the World of India’s Elderly.
G. N.: How does your approach vary from other photographers? Do you
make a conscious effort to be different?
S. S. J.: Photography is only a tool. Skill is not the issue. I try
to give the viewer an experience that is authentic and as close to what I have
been through. In many ways, it is the antithesis of commercial photography
where you have one meeting with a client, get your brief, shoot in the next few
days, bill the client and your work’s done. There is no process going on in
your head.
G. N.: The Ageless
project involved a great deal of patient, time-consuming observation over eight
years during which you documented the lives of 400 elderly people all over India . Did you
get involved in the lives of the people you photographed? Did you investigate
their histories?
S. S. J.: My brother and I would spend anything between one to five
days explaining to them what I was doing. I took three flights to Calcutta for one portrait
of a person living in a joint family because everybody had to be convinced. It
had nothing to do with looking through the lens, but respecting the subject’s
space.
G. N.: You have worked on issues like Save the Tiger, labour
exploitation in the Commonwealth Games and the Bhopal Gas Tragedy – all of
which are part of our history of national shame. Your installation Bhopal – A Silent Picture (2009) has
been criticized for packaging ‘failed activism’ in an attractive way. What has it
achieved in terms of addressing the issue?
S. S. J.: Well, in the space of three
months this year, the installation has been shown at the India Art Summit in Delhi , at the Kala Ghoda
Art Festival in Mumbai and at Art Chennai. No curator or gallery was interested
in supporting it. I put my own money into it. An artist puts his work out there
because he has something to say.
I first went to Bhopal in 2004 to work on a campaign for BBC
that raised awareness about the Bhopal Gas Tragedy 20 years after the disaster.
I made countless trips thereafter and kept thinking about how I could bring
this issue into the public domain. In 2009, I invited Bittu Sahgal, an
environment expert, and two others from an NGO in Bhopal and one survivor to speak at a public
forum at the National Centre for the Performing Arts, Mumbai. I did all this
because I believed that people should know about these issues and respond to
them.
Independent monitoring has
recorded that over 95,000 people walked through the box-installation Bhopal – A Silent Picture. There was
nothing to sell in there, it was purely about advocacy. It is not that the
installation will make the Supreme Court change its judgement, but it will
educate a whole generation of people in this country who have no idea what
happened in Bhopal .
As a photographer, I am using my medium to show what corporate irresponsibility
can do.
G. N.: Your portrait of the Tai Phake tribe of Phaneng Village
in Upper Assam was a subtle but dark
commentary on their impending extinction. The people were the focus of this
project. In Bhopal - A Silent Picture, however, you have shown the
starkness of an abandoned factory. Were viewers moved by this? And did you
manage to make a point about the human loss?
S. S. J.: Shockingly, dozens
of people, especially students, had no idea that the Bhopal Gas Tragedy had
happened in their own country. Many urban Indians now live like Americans do –
a certain section of the young population has started living very insularly.
They only know what is happening in their region and nothing beyond. Many said,
“Thanks for bringing this here. Can you bring it to our university?” As a
photographer, I have used my medium to increase awareness of crucial issues.
G. N.: You are not a dispassionate observer. Your documentation of
the Burj Khalifa project in Dubai ,
like your work in Phaneng, involved months of interaction and observation. Do
spaces and people interest you differently?
S. S. J.: Human
suffering or celebration does come into play when you are capturing an issue or
an event. One has to deal with the human condition. But art is not about going
into other people’s living rooms. It is about issues that get sidelined. My
work is about how a certain consumerist way of life dominates our so-called
development or, for that matter, double-digit GDP growth.
My Through The
Looking Glass series (1997) was one of the first environmental portraits
project which ‘excluded’ humans. The project provided a counterpoint to the
various visual depictions of living spaces in India found in glossy magazines and
coffee table books that emphasized stylized order and harmony. One of the things it did was document the
now-pervasive presence of television in Indian life.
G. N.: Why did you choose not to show the people of Bhopal
when the gas tragedy caused physical abnormalities, transforming them in terrible
ways?
S. S. J.: I did photograph people. I went to hospitals and found
deformed third generation babies. I also worked in communities that live around
the plant. These images would have been easy to sell but to me it was important
how human dignity was preserved in the portrayals. I wanted the general public
to experience a space they would never have access to. The plant has been
sealed for the past 27 years. There is still a chemical residue there and
snakes too. Hardly anybody’s been there.
G. N.: Presenting the installation in a container used for the
transportation of industrial goods is a smart way of accusing corporations of
environmental neglect. To go back to a question I raised earlier, does it speak,
however, of the enormity of the human
tragedy?
S. S. J.: The ‘Box’ is at an angle and inside, there is total
darkness, recreating that midnight in Bhopal
when the trains were pulling into the station. People were gasping and running,
and they had no idea why they could not breathe. The five photographs inside
the box are lenticular images of what they would have seen through the train
windows – images of the factory that was the site of the disaster. As you walk
through the box you lose your balance. I had thought of covering the box with a
satellite image of the factory, but eventually, put only the information about the
chemical composition of the gases, the dates of the disaster and the number of the
people who died, on it.
The US Holocaust Memorial Museum in New
York has a room with just a pile of shoes. When you
enter this space something intense happens to you. Instead of the pictures of
the dead men and women you have only a heap of their sorry possessions. I
believe in art that leaves room for the viewer to engage.
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