Audio Guide ＿Walkthrough
Audio Guide ＿Walkthrough
Prologue
Welcome to the Arboretum.
This is the second edition of our Arboretum series, which began in the midst of a pandemic. During that time, we both stepped out of the studio and lived separately for a few months. We would talk, over FaceTime, often found ourself outdoors with trees at the back drop. The call would break, because of network issues, and screen would glitch
Video calls were initially frustrating, but they also caught our attention. We would screenshot these digital distortions and This fascination led to hung screens giving way to this series.
In this edition, we delve deeper into the concept of trees as living archives and symbols of time. Through this exploration, we reflect on the interplay between nature and technology, capturing the essence of our evolving connection with both.
Preparing the Canvas
The shapes we create serve as a promise to ourselves—not to remain confined within familiar boundaries. Just as we sought to escape the locked rooms of the pandemic, these shapes allow us to break free and explore the unknown. They’re unique and built from combinations of “0s and 1s,” reflecting a digital language that connects to both the physical and abstract.
we draw on its inherent qualities: speed, networking, tagging, algorithms, and the occasional error—a glitch. To us, the pandemic itself was a glitch, an error that disrupted the entire world. Yet, like any glitch, it opened up opportunities for new ways of thinking and being. For many of us, It forced us to reset, to seek out fresh manifestations in our work and our lives.
The form remains functional, as the canvas is stretched over the wooden structure, embodying the tension between structure and fluidity, between control and release.
Chinar
In Kashmir, a place with an incredibly complex relationship to its landscape, we have been visiting and learning from people and meeting them to know what it is like to stay in the land of constant tensions and conflicts. We focused on chinar trees as the centre of our visits. These trees, some over 380 years old, have stood through waves of political and social changes. Can we understand them as silent observers of these shifts? And, through them, can we reflect on the broader changes we, too, are witnessing?
The chinar tree is a celebration in Kashmir, standing for over 380 years with an epic, almost magical presence. Even its fallen leaves serve a purpose, fueling the kangadi to keep people warm—continuing to give even in death.
We have been going to sites of the oldest chinar, which are beej behra, Anantnag and Naseem Bagh in Srinagar. Throughout centuries of political disturbances, the chinar has remained a constant, its majestic form firmly rooted in the landscape. At Naseem Bagh, one particular chinar fell, but in its fall, it became a symbol of dissent, a site for students to gather and build a community.
Though the fallen tree have since been removed from the campus, their legacy endures. Their images remain, and in their absence, their presence is still deeply felt.
Shinrin-yoku
Since 2002, our journeys to Japan have evolved—beginning with backpacking, then travelling with partners, and now with children. Over time, we’ve come to realise how much has changed, both around and within us. What began as outward exploration has grown into a more inward journey.
Travel itself took on a different meaning after the two-year lockdown. We ventured out again as soon as restrictions lifted, and it became not just about the destination, but a deeper sense of wonder and contemplation.
Yellow & Magenta showers
If you listen to German forester Peter Wohlleben,
he says trees on streets are like street kids, full of personality and resistance. We can’t help but think of our childhood memories of the Ambaltas and bougainvillaea on the streets of Delhi and Jalandhar. It’s magical in the second and third weeks of May when the Ambaltas showers the streets in yellow—maybe a sign of love?
And the bougainvillea’s magenta flowers swirling in the heatwaves bring a touch of amusement during the peak of the burning.
When we paint a painting of a tree, the memory of trees deepens our bond with them. Each work is a commitment, much like a relationship
—it requires time, care, and love.
Cycles and us
The personal is always at the heart of these manifestations. Early memories are filled with seasons and peculiar flashbacks. Every childhood story seemed to begin with “Garmi ki chuttiyon mein…” or “bahut thand mein school..”
But over time, we have muted our awareness of the seasons, as seasonal fruits and vegetables are available all year around.
We’ve lost touch with the wisdom that comes from living in seasons with natural cycles.
Actually, this disconnection runs deep—many of us no longer step on earth that isn’t cemented,
And nor sleep under the open sky.
The climate is changing, and while we feel these shifts every day, many choose to ignore or deny them.
One of the greatest challenges we face is the slow, creeping impact of climate change, which drives migration and disrupts lives.
As Hotter temperatures threaten agricultural livelihoods, quietly altering the world around us.
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