GSMD-500 | Grad Studio 1
Action 1 : Starting from Ground
My teammate for this Action: Shankar Padmanabhan
If someone asks me to tell them about my home or my home ground, I would most likely start with my country’s geography. Where it is located (the middle east), how we have come such a long way in history, and what I hate about it’s current political affairs (which is basically everything). I can also talk about our traditions, dishes or cultural events; but where do I stand in all of these? I’m talking about my home and yet my personal perception and experience have no role in any of the mentioned descriptions. Who is defining my home? me or the society? Can’t I define my own narrative of being, beyond limitations of names and borders I didn’t choose?
I’m going to share my findings with you with the help of my plants. I’ve always found comfort in nature. That is why about two years ago I started to collect different apartment plants with the goal of turning my balcony into a little jungle. This spring, I was unable to expand my collection due to the lockdown and pandemic. That’s when I turned to our giant Pothos which had already outgrew its space and had reached the ceiling. Propagation seemed Ideal as I got to have more plants for free without having to go out. I started with a few cuttings, but soon the situation got out of control.
My plants were the reason I woke up every day during the first weeks of quarantine. I enjoyed taking care of them and I felt a strong connection with them. I was suddenly detached from my routine life and everything I planned for had been put on hold. My only job was to stay at home and yet I felt so out of place. These plants too, where disconnected from their initial home, but as I observed them closely, they adapted super fast and in no time grew new roots.
I think we are too born in a home that was predefined for us (the giant Pothos), these “roots” were already there. We didn’t get to choose our families, location or the cultures that got passed on to us. But that doesn’t mean we are restricted to them. Just like those cuttings, we are faced with changes in life and our perception of home can change as well as we’re constantly growing new roots.
My wrinkled bedsheets give me a sense of home, I love how the shape of my body is somehow engraved within the fabric. My personal belongings, My cat, my friends and loved ones and every single life experience and memory all have one thing in common, the “human presence”. I was there to experience either alone or with someone else. To define the space we call home without my “presence” is just surreal and unrealistic.
What is Home then? The glass jar or what’s grown inside?
My answer to this question can change in future. Now, for me, home is not the glass jar, while it definitely “shaped” my growth or even brought limitations to it. My home is the roots I grew within that space. In the end, the narrative I choose defines my home.
Why? (Reflection?)
I tried to go deeper and found my whole analogy questionable. It would have been easier to just define my hometown and my relationship to it but somehow I’ve been trying to separate myself from the ground that I was born in. Maybe because that’s my actual motive. Going back to the beginning of this Action, there are many things in my homeland/ground that I don’t agree with. I find them limiting, exhausting, oppressive and ridiculous. Therefore, naturally, I don’t want them to define me. I separated myself from the narrative our system force-fed us. I enjoy some of our customs, our food and culture, but at the end of the day, traditions don’t bring freedom and means of personal growth. At some point in my life, I redefined my home as a defense mechanism. I had no space to grow in my initial system or the giant Pothos, so I cut myself from it, and formed my own narrative. It is hard, heartbreaking and overwhelming to disconnect yourself from your homeland but it had to be done in order to survive, and you will grow eventually, but even my new home has limitations. It might not look that way from the outside, but I still have limited space and resources to grow in my little glass jar. I still have my motherland/plant’s authority over me no matter where I go. I would still think about the others who didn’t make the cut and couldn’t redefine their narrative of being.
I don’t find joy in defining a temporary home that’s limited by a glass jar, maybe deep down, I want to grow my roots endlessly in the limitless ground that I belong to. Is it possible to have that in future? Can I find that ground? Does it even exist?
Nature is rich, fertile, and resilient towards external threats. The whole ecosystem walks towards the same goal, harmoniously. Nature doesn’t move, it doesn’t have to, it just grows. It belongs. And I’ve always found comfort in nature.
