Elective: Reading (seeing) between the lines
Mentor: Dharun Vyas
This course was an introduction to visual storytelling. We explored various methods by which a story can be represented and understood. What visual languages can one use to express the feelings/act in the story? The course started with an introduction to narrative theory, visual grammar, and languages. The aim was to create a coherent visual atmosphere across multiple visual mediums.
To get started, we began with some writing exercises wherein we started writing any childhood instance that first came to our mind and wrote continuously for 5 minutes straight, and then for 2 minutes straight. With the constraint of time, some of the important parts of the story got deleted, altered, or added, some changed the chronology of the story. We then wrote a 500-word extract to explain the instance in detail which then acted as a brief for the next person.
5-minute excercise
2-minute excercise
500-word extract:
It was the final few days of summer school before the vacation began, and I was a senior kindergartener. Our school uniform at that time consisted of a blue and white checkered frock with a bow at the back. My hair was cut short, just below my ears, and I wore small gold earrings, a choice my mother insisted upon, despite my dislike for how they always tangled in my clothes when I undressed after school. Recess time had arrived, and I recall sitting in the last seat of a long bench facing the wall, as our seating arrangement followed a rotation system, I was excited for my turn to sit in the first seat the next day.
Opening my chrome-yellow lunchbox, which had a blue lid, I opened it to see it contained papaya. My mother was well aware that I disliked papaya and had repeatedly requested her not to include it in my lunch. Nevertheless, she occasionally sneaked it in for its supposed health benefits. I stared at that fruit for a good two minutes before closing the box, deciding to go hungry for the day.
School eventually ended, and the bus dropped me off at home. My mother came down to pick me up and inquired about my day, asking if I had finished my lunch. I replied, "ek hi cheez baar baar mat daala karo na."
I returned home exhausted, changed my clothes, and went straight to sleep. When I woke up, I was drenched in sweat. We lived in a 1BHK, and I used to sleep in the living room. I never slept without my cherished pink blanket, which, though starting to lose its color and covered in bobbles, still felt as soft as it did when I first received it. It had a distinct smell, even after multiple washes, that I couldn't quite place.
As I was growing taller, my beloved blanket was beginning to outgrow me, yet I continued to curl up my legs while sleeping to make the most of it. My mother would frequently inquire when I planned to part with the blanket. Each time it needed washing, I'd place it in a yellow and orange laundry bag, and without fail, my mother would pose that same question.
I awoke feeling both sweaty and chilled, prompting me to request that my parents turn off the fan. In the background, I could hear the faint sound of the television, where my sister sat watching from the sofa. My parents promptly fetched a thermometer to check if I had a fever. I distinctly recall my dad wearing a white undershirt and checkered shorts. I can't explain why this memory from nearly 15 years ago remains so vivid, but I can still picture the ceiling as I woke up and the bond I had with my cherished blanket, which I refused to part with.
10 Keywords:
Sick, Loss, Association, Smell, Memory, Dislike, Anticipation, Softness, Hover, Slight fear
Snapshots:
The next step was to start collecting snapshots from movies which evoke a sense of the act or feeling in the story, this helped the recipient in understanding the story better.
Describe your image
Describe your image
Describe your image
Describe your image
Moodboards and Collages:
We swapped stories with our peers, then started making moodboards, collages on the basis of acts/feelings depicted in their stories. The reason for swapping stories was how different stories can have several interpretations on the basis of personal experiences as well.
Extract of the story recieved:
At the age of 13 all I wanted was a bicycle that I could ride to my tuition classes and get some control over my life even if it is for some time and get a sense of that freedom. I wanted to get rid of those car drops and those irritating curfews I had to follow of the guy who was driving me to these classes. On the occasion of Dusshera my mom and I went to this big Cycle showroom where there were 100s of cycles arranged in aisle format ranging from different numbers of gears to different types of tires to different types of uses and patterns. 100s of them hanging by the ceiling and the smell of something new flowing from all directions with cold air brushing my face. I was on cloud nine excited to buy my first cycle and ride it. Everyone in my family knew this new hobby of mine to buy a bicycle won't last for more than 2 months and I’ll get bored of it but no one complained or asked me twice whether or not we have to buy this bike. After selecting my dream cycle, we were waiting for the repair guy to change the wheels with a break stand, adjust some spokes, apply the new seat cover, and give it a final polish. Aah the smell of a new bike. After we bought the cycle I requested my mother to let me ride it home alone as I am gonna do it anyway for the classes. I was not expecting a yes from her on the first try but whatever helps me speed up the process. She went ahead on her scooty and I was pedaling slowly-slowly through the traffic. Half way through I don’t know why the chain of my cycle fell through and that stopped my cycle in a mili-second forcing me to go forward and slightly bruising my foot. Scarier thing apart from that was the damage my cycle went through within an hour of buying it. I took the cycle on the footpath and started to fix the chain, filling my hand in Greece, failing miserably until by some miracle I got it and then again after that I was happily riding my bike through the street thinking of myself as some guy on a new motorcycle, revving his silencer, speeding through their neighborhood and trying to be cool infront of my dad and mom. The next day when I rode the bike to my classes this adrenaline rush was killing me, speeding to reach the classes as early as possible so as I get more time to show off I was not expecting the criticism I got. “Why not a gear one?”, “why is it missing the front rod?’, “who the hell gives up being dropped and picked up by a car for this?”, “wasn’t there a better color than this shiny olive green?” some comments being positive, these are the only ones I remember to this day.
Keywords: Excited, Nervous, Mesmerized, Disappointed, Frustrated, Proud, Confused
Blind Drawing Excercise:
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Mind Map:
Final Product (Zine):
The final product comes from the intrusive thoughts one has while learning to ride a bicycle.
