Tash Kahn invited each SqW:Lab fellow to give her a selection of photographs taken from their local environments that were inspired by something they saw in Mumbai and could be recorded repeatedly.
Sameer Kulavoor
The Tale Tellers – John Ros
SqW:Lab fellows were invited to interpret their favourite story, song or poem via a series of images that represent key plot points within that story for an ongoing project by Charlie Levine called The Tale Tellers.
Each selection of images tells a complete tale.
The Creative Process – James Baldwin
01. Perhaps the primary distinction of the artist is that he must
actively cultivate that state which most men, necessarily, must avoid:
the state of being alone.

02. The states of birth, suffering, love and death, are extreme states:
extreme, universal, and inescapable.

03. And a higher level of consciousness among the people is the only
hope we have, nor or in the future, of minimizing the human damage.

04. The artist cannot and must not take anything for granted, but must
drive to the heart of every answer and expose the question the answer
hides.

05. I am really trying to make clear the nature of the artist’s
responsibility to his society.

06. That nation is healthiest which has the least necessity to distrust
or ostracize or victimize these people — whom, as I say, we honor, once
they are gone, because, somewhere in our hearts, we know we cannot live
without them.

07. Societies never know it, but the war of an artist with his society
is a lover’s war, and he does, at his best, what lovers do, which is to
reveal the beloved to himself, and with that revelation, make freedom real.

The Tale Tellers – Charlie Levine
SqW:Lab fellows were invited to interpret their favourite story, song or poem via a series of images that represent key plot points within that story for an ongoing project by Charlie Levine called The Tale Tellers.
Each selection of images tells a complete tale.
A Very Young Person 1865-1878 – Rudyard Kipling
1 every card in my working life

2 daybreak, light and colour

3 the memory of early morning walks to the Bombay fruit market

4 I held his hand and looked at the dimly-seen, friendly gods

5 I have always felt the menacing darkness of tropical eventides

6 Towers of Silence

7 we were sent to the dining-room after we had dressed

8 a stuffed leopard’s head on the nursery wall

9 Far across green spaces around the house was a marvellous place

10 I have thought well of hens ever since.

The Tale Tellers – Rose Van Mierlo
SqW:Lab fellows were invited to interpret their favourite story, song or poem via a series of images that represent key plot points within that story for an ongoing project by Charlie Levine called The Tale Tellers.
Each selection of images tells a complete tale.
A Natural Disaster – Lydia Davis
- In our home here by the rising sea we will not last much longer.
![[no title] 1999 by Roni Horn born 1955](https://sqwlab.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/‘still-water-the-river-thames-for-example_-roni-horn-1999-.jpg?w=525)
2. The cold and damp will certainly get us in the end, because it is no longer possible to leave: the cold has cracked open the only road away from here, the sea has risen and filled the cracks down by the marsh where it is low, has sunk and left salt crystals lining the cracks, has risen again higher and made the road impassible.

3. The sea washes up through the pipes into our basins, and our drinking water is brackish.

4. Mollusks have appeared in our front yard and our garden and we can’t walk without crushing their shells with every step.

5. […] Now we have moved into the upper rooms of the house and at the window watching the fish flash through the branches of our peach tree. […]
![[mechanic's rock, low water]; henry p. bosse (american, 1844 - 1903); 1889; cyanotype; 26.5 × 33.2 cm (10 7:16 × 13 1:16 in.); 2002.32.4; j. p](https://sqwlab.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/mechanics-rock-low-water-henry-p.-bosse-american-1844-1903-1889-cyanotype-26.5-×-33.2-cm-10-716-×-13-116-in.-2002.32.4-j.-p.jpg?w=525)
6. What we wash and hang out the upstairs window to dry freezes: our shirts and pants make strange writhing shapes on the line.

7. […] Much of the day, now, we stay in bed under heavy , sour blankets; the wooden walls are wet through; the sea enters the cracks at the windowsills and trickles down to the floor.

8. There are three left, and we are all weak, can’t sleep but lightly, can’t think but with confusion, don’t speak, and hardly see light and dark anymore, only dimness and shadow.

9.


