I like to work on small gestures: K. Benitha Perciyal

Seeds, resin, mud and textiles become metaphors for transformation. | Photo Credit: Prasannakumar N. An ongoing solo exhibition by the Chennai-based artist K. Benitha Perciyal, “How Long Will We Live? Or When Will We Die?” (August 7 to September 30), offers a rare opportunity to see her body of work alongside the collection of objects she references in her dense, layered process of art-making. The objects have been gathered over years, and the collection is her labour of love.Perciyal got her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in painting and printmaking from the venerated Government College of Arts and Crafts in Chennai. After her postgraduation in 2002, she spent 10 years at the Lalit Kala Akademi before establishing her own studio with her husband. The current exhibition is being held at Ashvita’s flagship gallery in Chennai. Excerpts from an interview with Perciyal: This exhibition opens a window to your studio space and your collection there. Does it address the gaps that previous exhibitions of your work might have had? In a certain sense it does. In my last exhibition, I was not able to display all the objects referencing my artworks. The dots have been joined in the current show, which presents my practice in a wider sense. The stories told by the artworks are fragmented, but they have a thread running through them. That thread is apparent here. Each segment of the show is in conversation with the other. You collect animate and inanimate objects that people abandon or throw away. Is it an act of care? It is almost like a ritual, an everyday practice that connects me to my art. For me, my home and the studio are the same space: if I don’t go to my studio, I will do the same thing in my house. Collecting is a kind of obsession, too.

Her practice draws on faith, the body, nature and personal loss. | Photo Credit: K. Benitha Perciyal and Ashvita’s Your work is like a shrine built with care, love, and reverence. How do your personal experiences contribute to the art you create? My friend Manoj used to read a lot. He loved music and food. I had a very special relationship with him. I was shattered when he passed away. I remember all the things Manoj told me, all his conversations about the books he read. When creating art, I start with fragments like this. In the process of creation, they gather different layers. I am never in a hurry. I let it all seep in; even at the last minute of completion, I might think of something. I might just sit in the studio for 10 days or more. I will reach my studio with my packed lunch and tea, clean the studio, watch the bats flying in the evening. My work builds up over time: often, there will be no obvious connection between different things that happen at different times or between how I understand them at different times. But when they come together in a work, they become an assemblage. You have previously spoken of your practice as a ritual of faith. Please comment. On the surface, faith can be read as belief. But very often it is not belief; something you don’t believe in is also faith. And then, belief can become non-belief after some time. At a surface level, we see it as faith and want to restore it. The mark that is already present before restoration, that line is true faith. Actually it is consciousness. But we tend it put it on a pedestal. The Lord will keep you from all harm, He will watch over your life (2007). Natural Pigment, rice paper, fixative on waterford. | Photo Credit: Benitha Perciyal K. and Ashvita’s  In this context, can you explain the use of Christian imagery, with all the broken bodies, in your work? That is my precise question: do we worship an image or an idea? If the image is damaged, we don’t repair it; we replace it. What happens after that? How does all this translate into your art-making? There are different layers to this. Sometimes I will be doing a portrait, I will keep it aside, then I will make a box, I might remember something from a book I have read, I might take that up. All these might be happening in different timelines. At some point I will assemble them to make a story. It is a kind of calling. I only make one or two works in a year. I don’t want to pressurise myself. Flower of Maryam (2019). Anastatica hierochuntica and wood. | Photo Credit: Benitha Perciyal K. and Ashvita’s  You use natural materials with different textures and temperamental qualities. You might combine wood with something fragile or with something that can disappear. Can you talk about these nuances? In our body, we have strong elements and sensitive elements. Together they make up the body. So with my art, I might use tree resin or textile, even mud. When brought together, they are transformed. Each element will be itself for the time it lasts, beyond that it will change. When I cast with natural materials, they become disfigured while they are drying. Later, they come back to shape again. This is an interesting process, how the surface becomes disfigured and how restoration happens from within. The marks from each application remain. It is these marks, which I did not deliberately add, that give a finished sense to the artwork. This is my experience of working with natural materials. How do you perceive the body in your work? What keeps me alive is the interaction I have with my body. At one point I felt ashamed of it, but I overcame that shame. It is only through my art that I could speak of what was happening inside me. As I live, breathe, touch, or hold something, I am having a conversation with my body. This is communicated through my artwork in an unspoken language. Small gestures bring alive a decade or a span of time. It is these small gestures that I like to work on. My Story is Often Neglected (2020). Frankincense, myrrh, cinnamon, clove, bark powder, lemongrass, cider wood, essential oil, water, agate stone, re-used Burma teakwood, restored rosewood pillar, and red sanders. | Photo Credit: Benitha Perciyal K. and Ashvita’s  You have used the image of a seed and, many times, actual seeds in your artwork. What is the relevance of a seed? In the early years of making art, I created my own language for things that I could not talk about. That’s how I started using seeds. Seeds are everywhere. If there are so many of them, why don’t we have a forest, I asked myself. It is because we don’t have the space. When I realised that many seeds are in an environment where they can’t be themselves, they became an important metaphor for me. I started collecting seeds that are stuck in places where they cannot germinate. Winged seeds fly away and disappear when they do not get a place where they can sprout. I continue using these seeds. How do you internalise space and respond to it? Particularly in the context of mounting an exhibition. When I get into a space, I try having a conversation with it. I expect others to do this, too. Moving from one place to another is not easy for me, and I have to prepare myself. This is also because I am very comfortable in my own space. I want to create a space which is not only for me but also for you. We have to build up spaces where audiences don’t feel alienated. The artworks I place in a gallery space help me connect with others. Do you see your work as an act of resistance? In a certain sense, yes, of course. But very often we don’t spell out everything, right? What new idea is brewing inside you? In my brother’s school in Tiruvannamalai, I want to create a reference space by arranging a lot of accumulated stuff for children. I have been thinking about doing this for a long time now. Krishnapriya C.P. is an artist, curator, and cultural producer based in Chennai.Also Read | An artist of absences and ordinary livesAlso Read | Chennai Sangamam: Taking performing arts to the people