An Ode to Dreaming

Last week, I saw an exhibition of work by the Indian artist Arpita Singh, at the Serpentine Gallery in London. Titled Remembering, the show reminded me how powerful women can be, even in settings where they are being silenced. From here on, I'll be channeling Devi Pistol Wali, a 1990 work by this now 88-year-old.

In this painting, whose title transliterates to Pistol Goddess, a multi-armed woman wields a gun, mangoes and flowers while standing atop a crouching man. Interpreting art is tricky business, subjective and aspirational even. So, I'll leave it to you to take what you will from this painting.

I first saw Arpita Singh's work in another exhibition in London, entitled The Imaginary Institution of India: Art 1975-1998. According to the show notes, her pieces declare that "dreaming is a form of inner political resistance. It is beyond the control of the outer authority of the state."

If I'm being honest, the state has entered my dreams, invading them if not controlling them. Is it invasion control? Perhaps. And in Laila Lalami's Dream Hotel, which I read earlier this year and 10/10 recommend, the state does not control but invades dreams, such that they are no longer private.

That doesn't seem so far-fetched in a world where I feel like all I have to do is mention a black one-shoulder jumpsuit with a feather ruffle and it appears on my Instagram feed. (An almost true story).

Now, these thoughts can be crimes, according to Marco Rubio. In the documents submitted against Mahmoud Khalil, a memo from Rubio notifies the Department of Homeland Security that he can personally determine whether a lawful permanent resident can be a "deportable alien" (please note that we are still being called aliens!) if he feels that "past, current, or expected beliefs, statements, or associations that are otherwise lawful" could "compromise a compelling U.S. foreign policy interest." The memo's contents seem tailor made for Mahmoud Khalil, and it worked. On Friday, a Louisiana judge ruled that the federal government could deport Khalil. If this is not arbitrary and unlawful, I don't know what is.

We are in wild times. And we must continue to dream. Christina Rivera's essay for 100 words of Creative Resistance closes with these sentences:

Because in dark times there are also crevasses, cracks of new worlds. We’re the dreamers right? If we don’t dream it, who will?

That's the work ahead of us – to dream into existence a new world, to replace this broken mess that was never meant to work for us. I'm not finding it easy to live in the dream space, but I keep trying. Because I am Devi Pistol Wali, fierce, loving, connected to nature and always colorful. May her energy flow from among us all.

Sayu