Asymmetrical block patchwork
with Dimasa weaves
Murshid is teacher, a guide, the one who can see and the one who can show. When I begin to see a teacher in every little strip of fabric, they teach me with their unevenness, how imperfection and the apparent “wastefulness” leads to the highest application of a phenomena called “creativity”.
When do I really become a creative human being? In those rare moments of blissful contact with my own innate usefulness when I am able to see nothing as waste. My heart rejoices yet also remembers the fleeting nature of this union.
‘Sukheo Kende Othey Mon’
My heart weeps even when happy’
Hundreds of tiny strips and boxes align themselves to be called out. An animation begins in the recesses of my head. I see each of these pieces meticulously fit themselves into each other. In a stop motion, they move in perfect unison segregating themselves. No calculation, no real maths, no perfect alignments, shapes and sizes. Before they begin to be stitched together, they have already joined themselves in my mind. I see the patchwork clear in my head so many times before it appears in tactile form.
I tell myself, “I must add some windows to this patchwork. Through them I will let the Baul linger.” I ask Gurmel, our tailor to cut out holes and fit some windows. He does that with keen precision. He becomes Murshid with that focussed gaze.
In two such windows, I offer a peep into Dimasa indigenous weaves. Their intricate motifs tell stories of their surroundings. Slowly the weaves and the strips of fabric begin to merge. The organic geometry that appears encourages me to look closer.
What guides this visual manifestation?
This question is my Murshid.