Listen, dream, dance and reflect: Q&A with Debjani Banerjee
Edinburgh-based artist Debjani Banerjee works across various mediums – from sculpture and textiles to film and collaborative making – to present nuanced and playful representations of cultural plurality, contemporary South Asian womanhood, and the broader human experience. Deeply engaged in workshops and archival research, Debjani often collaborates with others, enriching her work’s dialogue around identity, culture, and belonging.
SCAN spoke to Debjani about her exhibition Jalsaghar, currently on show at the Centre for Contemporary Arts, Glasgow.
The exhibition is titled Jalsaghar after the Satyajit Ray film of the same name. What made you decide to name the exhibition this, and how does the film speak to the work?
The title Jalsaghar was an intentional choice that links my work to a key cultural influence from my upbringing. Growing up in the UK, I was surrounded by Bengali culture, including the films of Satyajit Ray. The 1958 film Jalsaghar—which translates to ‘Music Room’—particularly resonated with me for its exploration of music and performance. The film’s setting, a grand classical music room, represents both privilege and decline, where an ageing landowner grapples with his past, his shifting beliefs, and his nostalgia for a world where he once held power.
My interpretation of Jalsaghar in this exhibition reimagines that concept through the lens of my own lived experience. I wanted to create a space that reflects the intimacy and diversity of the musical traditions I grew up with. The Jalsaghar in my work embodies memories of late-night Tagore songs at Bengali family gatherings, the music I lost myself in while dancing in clubs, and the mystical folk songs of the Bauls of Bengal.
The installation invites visitors to engage with these soundscapes and memories, offering a space where they can listen, dream, dance, and reflect. You hear contemporary versions of two Bengali songs sung by my sister, Mita Pujara, with scoring by Kavi Pujara. “Kali Kamaliya Wale” is a devotional song invoking the mother goddess Kali, traditionally performed by the Bauls of Bengal, and “Bujhi oi sudure” is a Tagore song. The music draws from traditional roots but is reimagined through experimentation and contemporary cultural influences.
You use a lot of different materials and ways of making in the exhibition – what was your journey towards such a multifaceted practice?
When choosing a material or process I’m thinking about what is right for each idea. For this exhibition, I used a range of mediums — ceramics, fabric, sound and sculpture — because each material resonates with the subject matter in its own way. Each piece in the exhibition carries its own materiality, not just as an aesthetic choice, but as a conceptual one.
This openness to explore is fundamental to my practice. I approach each work as an opportunity to play, to experiment, and, inevitably, to fail. I think that failure is an essential part of the creative process — a moment that often reveals new insights or unexpected pathways. Through this process of trial and error, the work becomes something I couldn’t have predicted at the outset, often surprising me with where it leads.
You worked with a number of other artists, writers and academics in the making of the exhibition. Can you talk a little about how this approach speaks to both the universality of the work, and its specific reflection of South Asian womanhood?
South Asian womanhood is an incredibly diverse and multifaceted experience, so I can only speak from my own perspective. However, my hope is that the universality of the work comes from the shared experiences of music, memory, and identity that transcend specific cultural boundaries. At the same time, this exhibition is deeply personal and speaks to my experiences growing up with Indian heritage in the UK.
Collaboration and community engagement have been fundamental to my work and creative practice over the last 20 years. For this exhibition, working alongside artists, writers, and academics that I admired was both inspiring and transformative, as each collaborator brought unique perspectives and expertise that enriched the work. Their diverse perspectives and exchange of ideas, pushed me to think differently about form, meaning, process and even new methods and techniques which I may not have considered previously. Ultimately, they helped me refine my own vision, resulting in a work that felt more nuanced, multi layered, and textured.
Are there any specific ways that working with communities or workshops has changed the work in the exhibition?
I have always enjoyed workshops and collaboration and wanted to bring this element of my practice into the work and exhibition. There’s something exciting about the immediacy and energy of making alongside others that produces unexpected outcomes.
I work a lot with young people and ceramics and have always loved their intuitive and playful approach to working with clay. This exhibition was the first time I had started working with ceramics in my own practice and I was heavily influenced by the young people’s approach.
The large appliqué tapestry, Mahabharata (2024), was made in the CCA Creative Labs. I invited people to join me in its making. During these workshops, participants shared personal stories, ideas and different stitching techniques. The act of stitching together gave the work a richness and depth that it wouldn’t have had otherwise.
Jalsaghar is open at the CCA until 30 November 2024.
Images:
1 Debjani Banerjee, That floats on high o’er vales and hills (2023). Photo by Oana Stanciu.
2 Satyajit Ray, still from Jalsaghar (1958)
3 Debjani Banerjee, Mudra (2023). Photo by Oana Stanciu.
4 Debjani Banerjee Naach (2021). Photo by Oana Stanciu.