LOS ANGELES — Some of Jaishri Abichandani’s artworks are so tactile that they evoke a strong sense of touch just by looking at them. The centerpieces of “Flower-Headed Children,” her solo show at Craft Contemporary, are figures sculpted from polymer clay and decorated with flower petals and jewelry. They appear to be handmade, with attention to detail that seems as enjoyable as it is meticulous. Filled with color – including walls painted blue and gold – and traditionally beautiful materials, the show enjoys visual abundance. It reminds you, in case you forgot in the midst of an endless stream of Zoom meetings, of the joys of the physical.
Abichandani, who lives in New York City, moved from Mumbai, India, to Queens when she was 14 and studied art as a student. If you know her, it may be her tireless efforts as an organizer and curator, rather than her vibrant work as an artist. After college, she founded the South Asian Womxn’s Creative Collective, which is celebrating its 25th anniversary this year, and from 2003 to 2006 she was director of public events and projects at the Queens Museum. She conceived a powerful trio of exhibitions to inaugurate the Ford Foundation Gallery in 2019, and staged a #MeToo protest outside the Met Breuer in 2017 when the museum posted a retrospective of Indian photographer Raghubir Singh, whom Abichandani alleged sexually abused in India in the 1990s. (Singh died in 1999 and her charges have not been brought to court.)
Curated by South Asian writer Anuradha Vikram, Flower-Headed Children is Abichandani’s first museum survey, collecting 75 pieces, although most date from the past five years — perhaps indicative of a recent shift in her direction. own work rather than that of others. The history, politics and culture of Abichandani’s homeland form one of the conceptual cores of the show. In many of her sculptures, the artist uses Hindu and pre-Vedic imagery, depicting her own versions of goddesses and spiritual beings assuming stately poses and appearing on pedestals, naked but in front of their headdresses and jewelry. Abichandani also uses important symbols such as the lotus flower, which traditionally has sacred associations with Hindu gods, but has been adopted in recent decades by the right-wing ruling Bharatiya Janata party.
At the same time, her work is rooted in the diaspora. (Abichandani and Vikram both come from Hindu families displaced during the partition of India in 1947.) The “Jasmine Blooms at Night” series (2017 – ongoing) highlights South Asian activists in the United States; 45 of the small, fanciful portraits fill a wall in the museum, creating the feeling of a devotional-meets-awareness-raising space. More broadly, Abichandani’s take on classical Indian art is resolutely contemporary and inspired by members of the queer, activist and feminist communities to which she belongs. For example, “Raat ki rani (Queen of the Night)” (2019) features a fabulously decorated figure dancing with a crescent moon and flaunting a playful mix of gender markings: long blue hair, acrylic nails, and dark leg hair; a nose ring, bindi and beard. They can be a drag queen — portraits of several hanging on the opposite wall — or just a gender-nonconforming one.
“Raat ki rani (Queen of the Night)” demonstrates the fluidity and complexity that animates Abichandani’s finest work. Her hand-crafted goddesses seem mythical all too real, such as the approximately two-foot figure in “Trinity With Mother” (2021), who literally carries her matriarchal lineage – represented by female heads – on top of her own head and in her hand. She exudes the poise and calm of a deity, but the scar on her thigh and the cigarette between her fingers make you wonder what realm she lives in.
Close by, in “End Game” (2018), which isn’t quite life-size but one of the biggest works in the show, the woman struggles with a stubborn figure emerging from within. They both hold a trident and she grabs a dagger from the back of his head. It can serve as a geopolitical allegory, if you read the signs, like the lotus flowers under the woman’s feet: perhaps this is a Hindu goddess trying to destroy the violent nationalism taken up in the name of her religion. As with so much of Abichandani’s work, the drama and beauty is enriched by the references (and I wish there was more wall text to explain them).
“End Game” is arguably my favorite piece on the show, as it captures the duality at the heart of “Flower-Headed Children”. When you step into the exhibition, the main gallery dazzles you. It’s a visual celebration of—perhaps even a temple to—a kind of divine feminine energy that has ancient, religious origins but has been given a secular, queer update. You’d be hard-pressed not to appreciate its materiality and ingenuity.
But there’s a second gallery to the side of darker works, including videos of protest performances staged by Abichandani and evocative wall drawings made of Swarovski-studded whips. This space contains a display case with a small, solitary figure, hand-sculpted from polymer clay. Titled “Predator at Rest” (2017), it shows a naked man lying in bed with a camera at his side: an image by the photographer Singh. It’s a brave work that takes my breath away – an intimate scene that looks peaceful, but in reality is brimming with complex power dynamics and vulnerability.
The mood in the second gallery tempers the festive atmosphere of the opening gallery. Yet the works on either side of the wall feel inextricably linked. Abichandani opposes the patriarchal world by presenting a feminist vision of abundance. She knows that activism is more than protesting — it’s about having fun and joy even, or especially, when those things seem scarce.
Jaishri Abichandani: Children with flower heads
Through May 8, Craft Contemporary, 5814 Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles. 323-937-4230; craftcontemporary.org.
