Our world is more connected now than ever before. Yet most of our experiences
of art take place through virtual means, accompanied by broad strokes of information.
As we try to classify objects without meaningful spatial interactions, our
perspectives are irrevocably shifting. It is possible that in art today, we are trying
too hard to find meaning in a barrage of imagery.
How are traditions passed on? How are crafts disseminated? What does it mean
to be handmade? In sculpture, are there still histories and narratives held within
materials? The work of Rina Banerjee begins to answer these questions through lush materiality and written
form, directing them toward readings of specificity. Her perspective on human diaspora relies on vivid means of
storytelling and fractured histories.
When signs of origin fade, fall out, if
washed away, trickle into separations,
precipitate when boiled or filtered to
reveal all doubleness as wickedness. Vanishing
act that migration, mixation like
mothers who hid paternity who could
name move me slowly reveal me only
when my maker stands straight, 2016.