Chandraguptha Thenuwara’s Neo Glitch Commemorates Black July
Photo courtesy of Saskia Fernando Gallery
July 23 holds a sombre significance for Sri Lankans, marking the anniversary of the 1983 pogrom, a brutal event that ignited decades of ethnic violence and conflict. For artist, sculptor and social activist Prof. Chandraguptha Thenuwara, the date serves as a poignant reminder of the unresolved issues that continue to plague Sri Lankan society. “These exhibitions are a way of commemorating what cannot be officially commemorated like war and its aftermath,” he points out.
Professor Thenuwara’s artistic journey began in 1997 with a series of annual exhibitions that have become a platform for him to express his concerns about the country’s ongoing struggles. His work has evolved over the years, responding to the changing political landscape and the persistent issues of land disputes, missing persons and unfulfilled promises. This year his exhibition, Neo-Glitch at the Saskia Fernando Gallery, explores the current state of uncertainty in the country.
The concept of the glitch is a powerful metaphor for the distortions and disruptions that have become a hallmark of Sri Lankan politics. “A glitch refers to a distortion like on a malfunctioning screen. I use it metaphorically to express the current state of uncertainty in the country. There’s a lack of clarity in our politics, in what’s happening around us. The glitch represents that distortion,” he explains. His use of oil on canvas and iron rod installations creates a sense of unease, reflecting the turmoil that lies beneath the surface of society.
Thenuwara’s earlier work, Barrelism, was a direct response to the militarisation of space during the war. He used the barrel as a symbol to critique the occupation of public spaces and the questioning of people’s identities. “Barrelism was my artistic response to the war… I used the physical barrel as a symbol to critique this political and military occupation of space. Just like Cubism emerged around the cube, Barrelism centers around the barrel as a loaded political symbol. It protested war and advocated for political solutions, peace talks and reconciliation,” he notes.
This work evolved into Neo-Barrelism and later Post-Barrelism, reflecting the changing nature of the conflict and its aftermath. Today Thenuwara’s work continues to respond to the present moment, incorporating motifs such as the lotus and the bell in camouflage to critique contemporary politics and alliances. His art is a testament to the power of creative expression in challenging the status quo and pushing for accountability.
Thenuwara’s artistic process is deeply rooted in his experiences and observations of the world around him. As a trained painter, he prefers working with oil on canvas but he also uses acrylic on canvas and iron rods to create screen-like installations. His work is a reflection of his commitment to social justice and his desire to spark meaningful conversations about the issues that matter most.
In addition to Neo-Glitch, Thenuwara is curating two parallel exhibitions: Visual Persuasion (Edition 2) and Hereafter, which explores the evolution of political art. Visual Persuasion features nine young women artists, most of whom are new to the scene, and provides with a platform for them to showcase their work. Hereafter offers a nuanced understanding of the country’s complex history, tracing the development of political art from the 1970s to the present day and includes works by artists such as S.S. Sarath, Jagath Weerasinghe and Kingsley Gunatillake.
Thenuwara’s work has not been without its challenges. He has faced backlash and restrictions because of his art, particularly during certain political regimes. “I faced no issues during Chandrika’s presidency, which supported peace. But from 2005 onward the CID would often be the first visitors to my shows. They didn’t always understand the conceptual work but I was still watched closely. I’ve been labelled pro-Tamil, a traitor and even pro-terrorist by nationalists and some political parties,” he says.
Despite these challenges, Thenuwara remains committed to his art and his message. “My activism specially against the Rajapaksa regime led to threats and life threatening situations. I even had to go into temporary exile and live under a kind of camouflage within Sri Lanka, only frequenting safe, known places,” he points out.
As Sri Lanka continues to grapple with the legacy of ethnic violence, Thenuwara’s work serves as a powerful reminder of the need for justice and accountability. “Until the issues of the pogrom and ethnic tensions are resolved, such cycles of violence can return. We must continue to speak about them,” he says. His art and activism serve as a testament to the importance of speaking out against injustice and promoting human rights.
In the face of adversity, Thenuwara’s advice to young Sri Lankans is clear: “Don’t be silent. Silence empowers repression. Misgovernance thrives when people don’t speak out. It’s not just artists everyone must speak up. And you must also think independently not just as party supporters or citizens under a government. Be loyal to the country, respect the law, protect people but live with individual independence. The people, not political parties or armies make history.”
Thenuwara’s work is a powerful reminder of the importance of art and activism in promoting social justice and human rights. As Sri Lanka continues to grapple with the legacy of ethnic violence, Thenuwara’s work serves as a testament to the importance of remembering the past, speaking out against injustice and working towards a more just and equitable future.
