On a Tuesday afternoon, we settle down for lunch with artist Joya Mukerjee Logue, after a guided tour of her solo exhibition, Those Who Walk Before Me, at Vadehra Art Gallery. Many of us present — writers and editors — have brought along pieces that hold value of “ancestral memory”. For me, it’s an album with photographs of my mother performing on stage as a singer in the 1960s.
My mother is young, and in one photo accompanied by British-Italian pianist Charlie Mariano, Portuguese-Goan saxophonist Pobreno Dias, and a bassist who is hidden by shadows. My father had taken it. “I love the fact that you brought us these beautiful black-and-white photographs. The handwriting under each image is such a lovely touch, in the age of emails and typed fonts,” she tells me, recalling her days of writing letters to family across her diasporic existence. “I also love the dress your mother is wearing,” she adds, with a laugh.
