Life — Sam Walzade

Exactly on the same day last month, I was on my way to the Dharmalaya Institute in Keori, Himachal Pradesh, navigating cancelled flights, rainy roads and a state of mind full of hope. Once at Dharmalaya, I lived in a house made of mud and learnt about earthen building and vernacular architecture - basically making homes out of locally available materials, which included mud, bamboo, wood and so on. We lived simply, ate simple meals and spent our days in harmony with nature.

Once that workshop ended, I came back home to Mumbai and completed a one week sculpting workshop with Siddhanth, which the previous blog post is about. Working with mud in Dharmalaya, and then ceramic and clay with Siddhanth felt like a natural progression. The aspect of working with clay I most enjoyed was that there is an emergence of a three dimensional form which did not exist prior to our handling of the clay. It genuinely felt like creating something out of (well, almost) nothing!

The reason why I mention these two workshops is that I believe this sequence of events - the connection with the Earth and the mountains, and the discovery of possibilities with clay was the perfect backdrop to what I was about to dive into. It prepared my mind and oriented my consciousness in a certain direction as I stepped into one of my most anticipated weeks - The Practical Cinema Lab (Edition 10) by Akshay Indikar - the multi-award winning director of films such as Trijya (Radius, 2019), Sthalpuran (Chronicle of Space, 2020). This workshop was being held on the other end of the city at Aram Nagar, and to avoid spending time in traffic, I would leave home between 8:30 a.m. and 9:00 a.m., so I could reach the workshop venue in 45 minutes. The workshop was due to begin at 11:00 a.m., so I’d spend my time in a coffee shop close by, or at the open area in the venue itself. It felt like going back to school, except that here I was eager to begin the day. I was learning by choice. The time spent waiting before the workshop gave me an opportunity to connect with my thoughts and with some wonderful people - and cats!

The workshop was broadly divided into three parts - the first, where Akshay took us through his thoughts, philosophy and practical experience - essentially all the wisdom he has gained in the process of making his own films. In doing this, he showed us examples, quoted the greats of cinema and most importantly added an overall perspective to the whole thing which in me, inculcated a sense of belief in myself, and also made me relook at my understanding of what cinema is. I’ve come to realise that everything is cinema - it isn’t bound by duration, format, etc. This was liberating and empowering. It is a lesson I am keeping at the forefront of my mind right now, and let’s see how my world orients itself around this primary thought. In a few months we shall have an answer.

The second part of the workshop is where we shot and edited our own short films. The concept we were working on is making a film about a letter we are writing to someone. Now there are two approaches to this - the first, know what you are writing and whom you are writing to, and then shoot with that broad thought in mind, so the visuals match the words. I went with the second approach which has worked for me all my life - trusting my subconscious. For three days, I shot what I was seeing in the city of Mumbai, including traffic, people, places I frequently visit for my street photography and sketching, and so on. I was worried that I still didn’t have a concept, but that didn’t stop me - I continued to follow my subconscious with the belief that everything will fall in place. Spoiler alert - it did. Meditation has become a huge part of my life since earlier this year, and my research into the discipline and regular practice has brought me to a sense of continuous awareness. One morning, before sitting down for my meditative practice, I decided to turn the camera on myself. I had recently bought this little tripod, and placed the camera at different locations at home as I was going about my morning. I also recorded my own meditative practice, and during my practice, it just felt like everything suddenly fell into place. The jigsaw puzzles of scattered visuals I was collecting over the last three days fit into this overall arrangement which to me, meant something. My film ended up as a letter to no one in particular, but to the viewer - the person watching it. So do watch it below (I’ve linked it at the end of this blog post), and let me know what you think.

The third and final part of Akshay’s workshop was the screening of all the films together. We all sat in the audience and watched all the films back to back and it was a very humbling experience. Watching your own film on a big screen in the darkness with other people is a very, very interesting feeling. To experience what it feels like, I recommend you do Akshay’s workshop whenever he announces it.

To sum up my experience of the workshop, it had a profound effect on me. I always approach opportunities to learn with an open mind, trying to be a sponge soaking up as much as possible. Akshay gave us a lot during the workshop, and as a result of being on the ride with him, fully trusting him, I have gained some new skills and sharpened some existing ones, making me a more complete professional and a human being. A big shout out to Tejashree, Akshay’s wife and partner in his creative endeavours; and the entire support team of ‘Practical Cinema Lab 10 - Mumbai’ - Nikhil, Rohit and the boys from Veda Black Box as well.

Ekta and I had the wonderful opportunity of hosting Akshay and Tejashree for dinner at home a few days later. They are among the most wonderful and authentic people we have ever met, and we are happy to have made new friends.

Some photos and sketches Made during the workshop

Click the arrows to scroll through

There are so many things to unpack here, and I’m unsure where to begin. This one is about reading, sculpting, diving into unpredictability and embracing of the self.

I always stay away from things that are being spoken about a little too much. I’m averse to getting caught up in the hype, because I feel that it makes one lose their own opinion in the wave of public discussion. It is the reason why I didn’t read a book like Harry Potter for the longest time, and since I didn’t read it, I stayed away from the movies, and then one fine day years later when the hype had died, I read all the books and watched all the films. But this post is not about another book.

There is one piece of literature that I have kept pending for the longest time - twenty years to be precise. In these twenty years I changed jobs, cities, had heartbreaks and heartmends when it comes to people, places, pursuits. I traversed philosophies, experimented with art practice, created a career out of one art form (photography), bought into the illusion of being in a never ending race, then found clarity and broke of out that illusion, and have finally found myself at peace for a while, knowing that this too, may be transitory. That book I refer to is The God Of Small Things by Arundhati Roy.

Over the last week, my time has been largely split into two brackets. One, reading the aforementioned book, and two, being a participant at a sculpting workshop being taught by Siddhanth Shetty - one of the most interesting strangers I met in the most unexpected of circumstances (an architecture walk) a few weeks ago. I had been looking for sculpting classes in Mumbai for a while without any luck, and it felt like the universe put Siddhanth and me in the same place at the same time, so that our paths could cross and lead to working with clay.

Let me tell you about one of the most interesting pieces that has emerged from my hands in this sculpting workshop. This happened on day 5 of a 7 day workshop. Prior to this, all the forms that I was making had a visual reference - either an existing piece I was replicating, or a reference photograph which I had shot years ago, being transcribed to clay. This piece however, is a different story.

On day 5, I landed up in class without a specific plan. Siddhanth suggested that I should try some soap carving, so I did. It was fun - I made what I thought looked like a climber’s hand and on another soap bar, attempted an old mobile phone, inspired by the one my dad used to have (it’s the same one that Ajay Devgn’s character uses in Ram Gopal Verma’s Company). Anyway, coming back to clay, I decided to attempt a clay lamp holder. I thought I will make coils of clay, keep stacking them above each other, and then once I have a good height, I will cut out hollow shapes in the form such that I can choose to put in either a candle or a bulb in it later and the gaps will allow the light to spill out in interesting ways.

I started adding coils on top of each other, and the structure went in a completely different direction. The top started becoming wider and then collapsing on itself. To tackle that, I quickly inverted the form, so now I had a wide uneven base, and a narrow flat top which was inclined at a degree. I continued to build this further by adding more coils. The structure started looking like a topographical depiction in 3D. I then considered making this into the trunk of a tree by adding clay in vertical strips to resemble bark, followed by thinking of it as a kind of sea-side hill with either a lighthouse or a cuboid building on top of it. The second idea seemed more appealing.

So I cut out a section from the clay I had flattened earlier, and as I was making a cylindrical form, I thought of a torso emerging out of the coiled structure because that felt more organic. As I placed the cylinder for the torso, the coils at the bottom now started looking like the drape of a saree. While shaping the torso, something changed and a male form emerged and the coils at the bottom took on a different role. It felt like a male form emerging from some sort of earthly mound. As I began to shape this further, I was fascinated myself at what was happening and how the clay form itself was telling me what needs to be done. It was a moment of pure attentiveness when I lost track of time and embraced the role of a channel for the sculpture to flow through. The final form of the sculpture looks like this - it will be fired in the clay oven by the Ceramic Centre in a few weeks, and I’ve asked them for a deep blue glaze over it.

My favourite piece from the workshop that emerged without any external visual reference

Till some time ago, I had no idea where this form has come from. And now, as I just finish reading this 20th anniversary copy of Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things, I realise that this could simultaneously be the form of Velutha (the ‘Paravan’ full of love, beauty and grace who was eventually destined for a terrible and heartbreaking fate) and of a grown up Estha (the quiet, distant man carrying demons of his own, bound to Velutha’s terrible and heartbreaking fate). I found Arundhati’s vivid description of the world of the God of Small Things and her ability to lay bare every complicated emotion of her characters in such beautiful ways so powerful, that I now realise that the clay sculpture only arose because while I was physically at the Centre for Ceramic Design in Dadar, Mumbai; my soul was in Ayemenem with Rahel, Estha, Ammu and Velutha, to mention a few.

Below: Some more images of the clay forms made at the workshop, the people from the workshop (Siddhanth, Sujay, Rachel) and the time spent with them and of course my copy of the book with the bookmark of my favourite book store in the world - Trilogy.