Standing before a regal and strong Vishnu carved out in sandstone, I realised this wasn’t going to be the art exhibition I had imagined. It had been 20 minutes since I had entered Avatar: Forms of Vishnu at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, an exhibition bringing to life 15 centuries of South Asian and Southeast Asian art devoted to stories of Hindu deity Vishnu, his various forms (as avatars), and his companions.
When I first heard about Avatar: Forms of Vishnu, I assumed it was an exhibition for people with a much deeper understanding of Hinduism than I have. Instead, I discovered an experience that meets you wherever you are in your journey. Whether you’re deeply religious, culturally curious, an art enthusiast or simply interested in great storytelling (and an enjoyable day or night out, might I add), it creates space for you to engage with these stories in your own way.
As a second generation South Asian woman, whose Gujarati parents migrated to Australia from Fiji, I’ve personally identified as Hindu through culture more than religion. Growing up in Sydney in the 1990s, my childhood was a blend of ‘Aussie’ experiences and Indian traditions. We lit sparklers on Diwali, Navratri meant doing garba at the local community hall, and mentions of Rama and Sita were present when my mum chanted at the altar, even if I didn’t fully understand them at the time.
As I looked at that sandstone statue in the second gallery room, I realised this exhibition showed how differently cultures and generations have interpreted Vishnu’s many forms. This ancient Cambodian sculpture of the early 800s, brought in from the National Museum of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, depicted Vishnu from the lens of Khmer art, as opposed to Indian art. A key difference included Vishnu wearing a simple, cylindrical mitre and sampot (a skirt cloth) in place of an elaborate crown and jewellery. With a strong, upright stance, this interpretation of Vishnu commanded immediate attention. It stood tall, metres in front of the gallery’s royal blue wall that displayed a stark contrast with two vibrant paintings.
Created on birch boards by artist Desmond Lazaro just this year, the Mount Mandara artworks featured natural pigments and gold, with soft splashes of blue, pink, orange, green and purple. The juxtaposition of the sandstone statue against Lazaro’s bright coloured works showed how this exhibition is just as much about community, and how stories evolve through the people who tell them. Placing ancient sculptures alongside paintings, installations, photography, jewellery, textiles and digital works of Vishnu’s avatars, seems rather intentional.
It’s just as much for “audiences who may not already know them”, said art historian Dr Chaitanya Sambrani, a co-curator of this exhibition alongside Melanie Eastburn, the Art Gallery’s Senior Curator of Asian art. I was lucky enough to be guided through the experience by Sambrani, where he explained that the diversity of artworks invites us to decide what the art means to us personally.
With that in mind, I started worrying less about whether I was “religious enough” to connect with these stories, and instead found myself asking how the art resonated with me. These are living stories because they continue to speak to experiences we all recognise, including loyalty, love, grief, desperation, resilience and hope.
As I walked through the gallery, I kept thinking about how differently my mum and I might experience the same artworks. She would probably recognise stories that I only vaguely remembered from childhood. Standing in front of Pushpamala N’s images that centred Sita, I thought of how my husband, whose family hails from South India (while I’m from the North), would’ve been told the story of Ramayana differently.
None of those perspectives are more valid than another, and I think inviting that opportunity and space for interpretation is one of the exhibition’s greatest strengths. As I now plan to take my hubby along for a midweek date night (it’s open till 10pm on Wednesdays with 2 for 1 tickets), I think of how Avatar: Forms of Vishnu has left me feeling more connected to my culture than I had expected.
I didn’t suddenly know every story or understand every reference. But perhaps these stories were never asking to be memorised perfectly by that kid growing up in the 90s. This was a fresh starting point, inviting me to engage, question and find my own meaning within them.
Top image source: Supplied/Art Gallery of New South Wales, Jenni Carter
This article was paid for by the Art Gallery of New South Wales.
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