if only we could take the time

Loved ones captured in moments of repose and stillness, spaces illuminated by patterns of movement, inanimate objects rendered alive by the weight of memories they hold. Indian-Australian artist Anu Kumar’s soft photographic observations of everyday family life in her hometown of Kavi Nagar in the northwestern city of Ghaziabad in India acknowledge the deep strength of familial ties unfractured by migration, the preservation of inherited gestures and traditions, and the importance of archiving as a means of safeguarding personal and collective histories.

Kumar’s latest series of photographs, on display as part of the National Portrait Gallery’s exhibition if only we could take the time: contemporary Australian photography, is a mix of previously exhibited works – some of which feature in her 2022 photobook Ghar, meaning ‘home’ in Hindi – and new works. Despite the demarcation and labelling required by the necessity of assemblage, Kumar prefers to think of her practice as a continuous one. ‘I don’t want to see my work as part of different series. It’s all part of the same lineage of me telling this one story. I want to think of it as a full archive of work; these books and exhibitions are moments of punctuation throughout this journey of me archiving my family.’

Based in Melbourne, Kumar would regularly journey back to Kavi Nagar in her childhood but for the first time in her early twenties, she turned to photography to bridge the dislocation between the place of her birth and the place she lives. Armed with a medium-format camera, Kumar has spent prolonged periods over several years visually recording the in-between moments that may otherwise pass unacknowledged. A decade on, it remains an exercise in learning about her family, India and, in the process, herself.

Moving through the house that her grandfather built in the 1980s and which has since been home to generations of her family, she spends a lot of time thinking of the way her relatives situate themselves through the house, dictated by the sunshine that illuminates and shades different parts of the building at different times of day. ‘I’m fascinated by the architecture of the house and how the people within it interact with the home. My grandfather built and designed it, and it’s weird that even after he’s gone, the way that we’re interacting with it is something he planned.’

The whispers of past intentions and the continuing reverberations of familial life are apparent in a staircase ascending to a rooftop framed by an open doorway. The view is from the aangan, the middle courtyard of Kumar’s family home and the focal point for daily activity – moments of happenstance, incidental conversations.

Kumar is a master at evoking a minutiae of cyclical detail, aided by the ability of medium-format photography to meticulously discern fine details with utmost clarity, whether it’s the graceful folds of the towel draped over her uncle as he partakes in a 30-year-old ritual of dyeing his hair orange with henna; the wispy softness of her Nani Ji’s hair as she naps in the middle of the day – one of the cherished activities Kumar says they still do together; or Kumar’s aunt shielding herself from mosquitos with her chunni. The textures within the house are another element that Kumar is endlessly fascinated by, whether it’s the patina of the walls or the chalkiness of Indian paint.

Kumar’s practice is a languid, deliberate and thoughtful one; when she’s in Kavi Nagar, she sometimes takes as little as one photograph a week. This unhurried approach is sustained by the technicalities of medium-format photography: there are typically only 12 shots on one roll of film and movement isn’t depicted as easily as other formats. The scarcity of shots per roll imbues Kumar’s practice with a certain meditative quality; she is careful and meticulous about which aspects of family life she captures.

Kumar was moved to partake in the self-referential act of rephotographing old family photographs after discovering a pile of photographic prints discarded in one of the sinks in her family home, exposing a generational chasm in how such artefacts of personal histories are viewed. This need to preserve beauty and meaning in objects has assumed an urgency as Kumar grapples with the unrelenting passage of time and the anticipatory loss of family members.

‘When I started taking these photos, it was more about discovery and learning. I’m still learning and I’m still discovering, but it’s now more about the slow process of saying goodbye. I’m focusing on grief, in a way, and how we make sense when people go – through the possessions they leave behind, the house they lived in. I’m interested in how we use ritual and religion to make sense of the world after we’ve lost someone.’