Whispering What The Heart Says
Exploring human feelings
All the artworks that have been featured in this exhibition explores human restlessness, chaos, ambition, and fear-- feelings that impact our lives the most. ''Eternal Flow,' is an artwork that I made during COVID-19. It is about the human restlessness that is hidden under global stillness. Another artwork, Mixed Emotions'' offers a dialogue between opposites–calm and chaos, vividness and void. Through a mandala that's half-monochrome, half-vivid, this piece explores the coexistence of restraint and spontaneity. There is another artwork called 'Market Pulse' that depicts human association with the financial world. It dives deep into both human ambition of success and the fear of losing more,' says Jain.
Born out of difficult times
'Whispers Of The Heart' is Jain's debut exhibition. The 26-year-old did not go through art school training. Instead, art came into her life as a companion during difficult times. 'It was more of a soul's calling. Some of the artworks were made during the pandemic, when the world was grappling with loneliness and uncertainties. It was my constant companion at that time. Today, my paintings have become my voice," says Jain.
Jain wants people to connect with her artworks. 'If someone pauses in front of a piece and feels seen or soothed—or leaves having heard a whisper from their own heart—then I'll consider this show a success,' Jain adds.
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Time of India
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In the long-duration performance I did in Mumbai in 2007, I created a 5,000 sq ft skyline of the city — a 72-hour performance. I don't even know where the energy came from. During that time, I endured pain and trauma, but I was able to draw every significant building in the landscape. I had a camera placed on top of the building, which worked like a telescope to give me a 360-degree view of the city, and I used that image as the reference for the drawing. A lot of preparation goes into these performances. I even dress up in costume to embody the character. In Mumbai, I had transformed myself into Queen Victoria. I rode on that experience and built a career on it. At the Kochi Biennale, I presented a 60-hour performance. I imprisoned myself in one of the rooms in the Director's Bungalow. I started by painting the walls black and then added white stripes to give the feeling of being inside a prison. Through whatever I could see from the windows of Aspinwall House, I painted those scenes into the white spaces of the stripes. I kept wondering what lay beyond those walls. Eventually, I staged an escape from the prison—as a Spanish conquistador, a Vasco da Gama-like figure. I depicted him weeping as he escaped, disappearing into the distance while waving a red handkerchief. It was almost like demanding an apology from the colonizers—for what they had done and for all they had taken from us. How has your journey been from participating as an artist in the 2014 Kochi Biennale to taking on curatorial role for the 2025 edition? I'm not a newcomer to Kochi. My engagement with this town goes back decades — beginning with a brief but vivid encounter when I was seven years old. I studied at Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan school after my father was posted here as the manager of Grindlays Bank in the late 1970s. Moving from Shimla to Kochi was a cultural shock. It was the first time I had seen crows. At school, children came without shoes and we ate meals served on a thali with round rice and sambar. Years later, I returned to Kochi, this time as an invited artist. More recently, I came back as part of HH ArtSpace, which I run with my partners, to curate a project featuring nine live artists from South Asia. This time, I return in a different role — jointly curating the Kochi Biennale, in collaboration with HH ArtSpace. How many artists are part of this edition? Have local artists also been invited? We have a total of 70 artists participating — 30 international, 30 national and 10 from Kerala. Among the international artists, a significant number is from South Asia. In addition, 28 artists are currently doing site visits. What makes this group particularly interesting is that many of them have never travelled outside their home countries and some are visiting India for the first time. I've intentionally reached out to artists who don't need to be pre-empted — those who will respond instinctively to the patina on the walls, who won't be troubled by debris, a falling roof, or damage on the surfaces. We've managed to get them genuinely excited about being part of the Biennale. We sent out 70 invitations, thinking we might hear back positively from 60. But to our surprise, every single artist said yes. The Biennale holds a special place in their hearts because it's rooted in the geopolitics of Kochi — in a region like Kerala, where people are deeply engaged with politics, and where public opinion matters. When you bring work to this place that is politically charged, you know you will get to hear opinions. You don't have an exhibition of this calibre, significance or ambition anywhere else in this region — not in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, or Sri Lanka. The Kochi Biennale Foundation will be announcing the list of participating artists soon. Many of the Indian artists we've invited have never exhibited before — we've gone deep into the interiors of the country, far from the big Metros, to find fresh voices. We also have more women artists than men this year, many of them working from places like Baroda, Chandigarh, and from marginalized communities. We're also giving significant space to artists from Kerala. One of the most renowned artists will be exhibiting in the same space as a young Malayali woman artist. Similarly, international artists will be placed alongside local ones. I'm deeply interested in creating these kinds of dialogues. Why did you choose 'For the Time Being' as the title for this edition? We just played on the word. Art is a physically fleeting and intoxicating experience. Kerala is abundant and ecologically explosive. If you throw something, it grows. Forests have flourished and you have a colonialization that grew on pepper. 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There's genuine anticipation because livelihoods are linked to it; it boosts local businesses and the economy. You can clearly see that the Biennale has become an integral part of the city. Did you face any budgetary constraints and did they affect the scope or scale of the Biennale? This is a blood and bones, skin and flesh, mud and stick Biennale. There will be very little digital and video work and less reliance on high-end tech. This is a Biennale of metal, wood, mud, earth, terracotta, textiles, tactile materials. I think the eight lakh people coming to Biennale will connect with the artists. Money is important and I have had to do the brutal work of saying 'No'. But behind every 'No', is a larger 'Yes' We have had hitches and regrets , but it is important to focus on success and strengths. Is there still uncertainty about whether Aspinwall will remain the main venue for the Biennale? We've identified 15 venues for the Biennale, and Aspinwall is one among them. 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