How to be successful in LIFE

If you have a dream, don't just sit there. Gather courage to believe that you can succeed and leave no stone unturned to make it a reality." Roopleen
Every day an inspirational quote lands in my inbox. Today's words could be not be more apt after yesterday's long attempt - transcribed from a fax - the email had long since vanished into cyberspace. As I was copying I was very aware there were very important factors to add to the story. The events that took place during the several extended visits between 2001 and 2003 anchored my commitment to the artisans and communities of Kachchh and formed the bond that endures to this day. Although I had made many promises and attempts to return, 1998 was my last visit to Kutch before 2001. The intervening years threw up enormous personal challenges that prevented travel - we lost our home due to a bad business venture and then my back gave out and I underwent major surgery. During those three years we had to start again from scratch, find work, find a home and get our emotional strength back again plus I had to get my backbone back! The damage was due to years of lifting heavy dye baths and reaching out over the huge frames on which I stretched fabric and then drew finely detailed images in wax! Self employed artists do tend to ignore their own bodies! But Mike and I put our heads down and by the year 2000 we had a property investment and I was walking well again. It was time to buy the ticket and head for India. On January 18th I posted a stack of postcards to my friends in Bhuj announcing my return instead of sending messages about yet another delay. I still have the response from Gajendra Jethi my first guide who wrote '…you will come when the time is right. God willing.' My postcards never made their intended recipients. On January 26th the world in which they were to be delivered turned inside out. Ismail was one of my first ports of call after I had located Ranju and I wish to share the lesson I learned from him and was reinforced by many others. While he might not fully realise the pivotal role he played, it was Ismail who gave the inspiration for creating narrative works to tell the earthquake stories that made up the Resurgence exhibition. It was early April, it was already hot and we were standing in what is still the printing shop at Dhamadka - one of the few buildings that remained standing. It was filled to the rafters with piles and piles of dusty block printed yardage placed there for safekeeping by many of the village's artisans. Broken blocks littered the corners and as we stood in this confusion of lives in disarray Ismail said to me 'What am I to make of all of this?' It was a poignant question that went well beyond the bounds of the space in which we were standing. Sometimes and rarely - a thought comes like an arrow from the universe - from the collective cosmos and what came out of my mouth was not filtered through any conscious thought process. 'Do you think you could make a piece of work that tells this story?' I was astonished at my own words. Ismail thought for a bit and then said he would think it over and come and see me in a few days' time. Three days later he turned up at the yellow tent. He was brimming with ideas. He and his brothers, Jabbar and Razzak, had planned a piece that told their story. The work was to be in three sections - before, during and after the earthquake. Each section would be contained within Islamic arches to indicate the strength of belief. The first section would show the village as a place of narrow streets, few trees and old stone houses. The middle panel would be the movement of the tremor and the final section would be a new village of dreams with wide streets, plenty of trees and earthquake proof homes and workshops. There would be good water and fresh air and safety. Within one week I saw the work tentatively mapped out on a piece of cloth 4 metres long. They had begun carving the new blocks and the work was to be rendered in the traditional Ajrakh technique using natural madder, indigo and iron black.

This prophetic work embodied their master plan for survival. It contained the seeds of the past, the energy of the present moment and a vision that propelled them forwards. They called it 'Spider' and as Ismail explained 'When a spider loses it's web it just rebuilds.' And thus today's Ajrakhpur was created out of chaos that became order. The motto for the UN Commission for the Future (in the 1990s) 'We cannot create that which we first do not imagine' was never more truly realised than in the work of these humble traditional artisans..
I do not claim to be any more important than so many others, locals and foreigners alike, who surrendered their hearts, heads and hands to the physical, spiritual and creative rebuilding of Kachchh. What I do acknowledge however is that the healing of Kachchh was my own healing, that the tears I cried were for myself as much as others and by working alongside such committed people I gained an energy that has never left. My losses were small in comparison. This is a timely post that finds my own small family in the throes of rebuilding - I rest in the knowledge that the lessons of those former times will carry us through.

Ismail's 'Spider' languishes in CMVS (formerly the Prince of Wales Museum) in Mumbai. It should be seen in public again and that reminds me to prod the staff into action - they did promise to show the works after they acquired the collection in 2006.