The Promised Land

A photograph is an escape – a moment captured that allows us to elude the monotony of daily life. Shooting an image frames a fantasy, a desire to enjoy that which has gone in the past, oftentimes becoming the wardrobe that leads us to Narnia. These are photographs that present us that vivid and surreal fantasy, a world of promise and desire that we all seek, that we all long for. It is a landscape of love, a staircase to heaven, for when we see Sohrab Hura’s River (2005) or Ketaki Sheth’s Man Under Flyover (2015), we are transported to a vivacious composition that revels in the reality of life. We witness a landscape of celebration, a dwelling that negates our economic, social, political, and religious differences.

What we have is a topography that calls out to us; it is a map of belongings, such as Baptist Coelho’s Presence #1 (1997) and Dayanita Singh’s Dream Villa (28) (2006-08) that seeks us out.

It is an inviting moment of rest that allows us to scan the horizon; a pedestal, where Raghu Rai’s Self Portrait, Mumbai (2019) and Madhya Pradesh (1982) overlooks a geography of opportunities. There, in its scattering, lies excitement, enthusiasm, and an eagerness to live life to the fullest. It is simultaneously a quieting meditation, a feeling that restores calm and tranquility, when we look at Shumon Ahmed’s Manzil (2017) or Shilpa Gupta’s Half a Sky (2019).

It is a candid realisation that stops us in our bustling, overly busy surroundings, demanding our moment of relaxation.

Or perhaps it is an otherworldly, ethereal summon – a call to arms with Anirudh Acharya’s Musica Universalis (2017) that lands us onto a terrain that extends infinitely; it is the promised land, an area of light that breaks down definition. It is the reserve that waits for us, always and forever.