Ostentatious presence

The word on the floor is Mein — Urdu for “I”. Not hung on a wall, not placed on a pedestal, but lying on the gallery floor, upside down, where feet pass and people wander without necessarily stopping to look. Which is, of course, exactly the point.

The ego wants to be seen. It announces itself, insists on itself, builds itself up — and yet here it is, floored. Literally. The poet’s “I”, the artist’s “I”, the self that strains to be understood — inverted, grounded, returned to the commons. Not displayed for those with the right sensibility or the right vocabulary, but placed where anyone might encounter it, step around it, or simply not notice it at all.

What saves it from being merely symbolic is its physical presence. The letter is three-dimensional, elongated, chunky — given a mass and depth that written words never carry. It does not float. It does not gesture elegantly toward meaning. It sits on the ground the way a stone sits, heavy and a little stubborn, as if it has been there a long time and intends to stay. Small in scale but dense in presence — not quite monumental, not quite dismissible.

It has been placed upside down. But then, it probably never knew which way was up.

Ostentatious presence | Acrylics on wood | 19 x 12 x 7 inches | 2018