22
B+W
COMMENT
susanburnstine.com
Priya Kambli’s photographs are a response to the loss of her parents
and her subsequent migration to America. She talks to Susan Burnstine
about the impact of artefacts, memories and family.
AMERICAN
CONNECTION
T
he most rewarding work
often emerges from
personal stories that are
rooted in pain and loss.
Thus it takes courage to share
intimate elements from one’s
personal life, which consequently
informs one’s art. Priya Kambli is
an exceptional example of this
kind of photographer.
Kambli was born in India
and migrated to the United
States at the age of 18 following
the death of her parents.
Photography has always been a
big part of her life as her father
was an amateur photographer.
She recalls, ‘We (my father’s
family) often found ourselves to be
his unwilling subjects. Our
reluctance was related to his
perfectionism. We were constantly
herded from one spot to another,
posed in one pool of light and then
another. As a child I was certain
that being photographed by my
father was my punishment.’
As an adult, Kambli recognises
in her own work the same level of
commitment she once wished she
could escape. But her approach
differs, as she’s sensitive towards
the uncomfortable feelings she
had as a subject and prefers to
photograph objects, artefacts and
self-portraiture.
I first became aware of
Kambli’s work when she won the
Photolucida book prize in 2006
for her seminal body of colour
images entitled Color Falls Down.
She describes that series as a
conversation with her ancestors
(which include her parents,
grandparents on both sides and
her maternal uncle) as an effort to
reconcile the cultural dualities
that have helped her form her
hybrid identity, as she is no longer
truly Indian or fully American.
Kambli’s mother died when she
was 15 and her father passed
away when she was 16, thus her
images are a response to their
loss and her subsequent
migration to America.
She explains, ‘My work is rooted
in my fascination with my parents
and because of their early deaths
the family photographs hold even
more mythological weight. In my
work I labour to maintain my
parents and ancestors the way
Indian housewives do their
kitchen deities.’
O
ne of Kambli’s most
startling early
childhood memories
was finding her
mother’s face carefully removed
from a photograph that also
included Kambli and her sister,
who were left completely intact.
‘Even as a child I was aware that
this act was quite significant –
but what it signified was beyond
my ability to decipher,’ she says.
‘As an adult I continue to be
disturbed by these artefacts.
Even though the incisions have
a violent quality to them, as an
image-maker I am aesthetically
Aaji
Dada Aajooba and Dadi Aaji’s
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