In 2015, I had suddenly felt a calling to paint elephants under the title, “Chalk and Chains.” I had been to the Dubare elephant camp in Coorg, India just a few years before and had been struck by the fact that elephants who had been crisscrossing farmlands in search of food had been captured and were being rehabilitated on account of their being “too wild.” When human population expands, the need for humans to encroach on wildlands becomes inevitable. We end up not being able to leave the wild alone. Elephants are then seen as “pests” to be rehabilitated or eradicated, not realizing the human behavior that is unable to respect the wild. Painting elephants as a meditation on this topic led me to understand that oppression is oppression—that the structure of oppression is the same whether it is humans oppressing other humans, animals, flora or the planet itself. The structure is thus: when a person/creature/plant/planetary entity is turned into a “thing,” it loses its animated or living nature. Being thus objectified, it can be harmed with impunity. This axiom explains why elephants are being poached in Africa and Asia. Ivory is currency to fund terrorism, or to become exotic status symbols for the upper class to show off their wealth. Elephants are no longer elephants, but tusks. This type of synecdochic representation aids and abets the oppression of the planet itself.
Growing up in India, the sight of elephants at temples blessing children and adults by placing their trunks on peoples’ heads, decorated elephants standing in the sun for hours during the Kerala temple festival, elephants painted with chalk designs wearing colorful coverings on their backs, the warrior elephants carrying the “Raja” or king, elephants carved on temple basement moldings, ivory elephants walking in a row along tusk-shaped contours were all common sights and symbols. These artistic representations don’t quite address the level of harm that is done to animals that has exploded in the last several decades.
96 elephants are killed every day to support the ivory trade. And then, there is the curious Victorian era colonial practice of taxidermy where elephant feet are converted into stools, umbrella stands or liquor services. It is this same type of objectification that plagues the mental health of peoples around the world. The elephant that falls in Africa is no different than George Floyd who fell in Minneapolis and no different than the person who is murdered by their intimate partner or adult abusing a child. Oppression is oppression. The art IS the activism– the paintings embody the voices against subjugation.
I pledged to paint 108 elephants to agitate against the poaching and harm done to elephants in Africa and Asia. I pledge to donate 50% of the proceeds from the sale of the paintings to Elephant Voices, an organization dedicated to the conservation of elephants. Find my paintings on Instagram, #jayaforelephants.
Decorated elephants painted with chalk designs, ivory elephants walking in a row– don’t quite address the harm that is done to animals. When human population expands, humans encroach on wildlands. Humans are unable to respect the wild. Painting elephants as a meditation led me to understand that the structure of oppression is the same. When a person/creature/plant/planetary entity is turned into a “thing,” it loses its animated or living nature. Being thus objectified, it can be harmed with impunity. Elephants become tusks, synecdochic representations aiding and abetting the oppression of the planet itself. 96 elephants are killed every day to support the ivory trade. The elephant that falls in Africa is no different than George Floyd who fell in Minneapolis, no different than the person who is murdered by their intimate partner or adult abusing a child. The art IS the activism– the paintings embody the voices against subjugation.