Iraboty Kazi, Kite Saree, 2021
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(Be)Longing is a celebration of the voices, journeys, and stories of artists of Asian descent. The project, as suggested by the title, engages with diasporic identities and notions of belonging in Canada. Also present in the title is the longing for connections with communities, longing for people and places left behind, and longing for social changes. We interviewed cultural contributors to learn more about their experiences as artists of colour, the work they produce, life during the pandemic, and (if any) interaction with the Embassy Culture House.
In its nascent state, the project was designed to showcase artists in May, in connection with Asian Heritage Month. However, our own discussions of the meaning and relevancy of Asian Heritage Month brought the complexities of months designated to minority groups to the forefront. These moments of reflection led us to rethink our approach and add an optional question about Asian Heritage Month. The contributors raised the issues of xenophobia, centring “the relationship of the majority group to the minority group,” and “celebrating our differences” along with the desire to “awaken those who believe we are living in a post-racial society” and “hope that such gestures can raise awareness and consequently shift the culture towards structural changes that extend beyond one lunar cycle.” The diversity of the answers is a reminder of the importance of continually questioning, creating dialogues, and engaging with communities in order to avoid complacency. |
Soheila Esfahani
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Samar Hejazi
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S F Ho
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Sharmistha Kar
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Heidi McKenzie
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Ruby Singh
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​Niloufar Salimi
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Mohammad Tabesh
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Rita Wong
The Home
By Rabindranath Tagore
I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was
hiding its last gold like a miser.
The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the
widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent.
Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed
the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of
the evening.
His village home lay there at the end of the waste land,
beyond the sugar-cane field, hidden among the shadows of the banana
and the slender areca palm, the coconut and the dark green jack-
fruit trees.
I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight,
and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her
arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mother's
hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that
knows nothing of its value for the world.
By Rabindranath Tagore
I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was
hiding its last gold like a miser.
The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the
widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent.
Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed
the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of
the evening.
His village home lay there at the end of the waste land,
beyond the sugar-cane field, hidden among the shadows of the banana
and the slender areca palm, the coconut and the dark green jack-
fruit trees.
I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight,
and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her
arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mother's
hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that
knows nothing of its value for the world.
