And I saw one monk. Standing in front of the door. And other looters are waiting to enter that shop. They can’t enter because it’s locked. And they ask the military person shoot the padlock. So they shoot and it’s opened.Then they looted everything. Textiles, and you know, TVs, and everything. Whatever. Whatever comes to their hand, they were looted.

This is another structure I wanted to… another sculpture now. And…

Is this a barrel?

Kind of. No This is the…First we tried like a…This will help to create that Venice Biennale work. It is there in that studio. So, now, I have to use this one otherwise it will…Yeah, I can do something with that space. And this is the space we are going to have my sculptural work.

Tell us your personal experience of Black July.

It happened in nineteen eighty-three, July, twenty third. When the news came that the thirteen soldiers [were] killed I was on my way to Colombo to my freelance work at the Wijaya Publications. But early morning when I came out from my Nugegoda boarding place, so in the bus I saw the burning. That Kalpana… Where we eat normally, our thoseys and other things. It was burning. I thought it’s an accident, might be. Everybody is watching it. So bus moved. And so in Thimbirigasyaya side two people entered and you know, asking ‘baldiya’ and ‘pen “What is this?” and you know if they can’t pronounce it properly, that’s the way they identified without checking the identity card.

So you saw it unfolding with your eyes?

Yeah, yeah. They were taken out. Some might be two or three people, they were taken out. I don’t know what happened to them I saw some… the shops are written in, on those walls and you know, saying that this belongs to the Sinhalese family. This is the Sinhala owner’s shop. Not to burn them, their houses, you know. With the Sri Vihar there at that time. One shop occupied by the police person. And because that shop run by the Tamil. Later it turn to the Sinhalese owned shop, and I’m seeing all the Tamil owned shops are burning or looted.

So how did, like you were walking around and seeing everything burning?

Yeah.

How did you react?

We can’t react anything, you know? Because everybody’s in the kind of looting mode in the road. You can’t say anything to stop that. They will kill you. 

So how are you feeling? What did you feel?

You are afraid. Yeah, I, fear, you know? [You’re] feeling the fear. You don’t know.You have to survive, you know? Otherwise if you’re talking anyone against them, they will kill you. You’re a pro-Tamil or someone.

This is for me to make that table, right? 

So, then we can sit here and use it? Till it comes here, right? Without any trouble, right? We’ll keep that, that way and measure and see how it will be. Yeah, drop it below.

So you have to wait for new shipments, canvas.

Yeah.

That is why you have to find [an] alternative way of doing things. That is why sometimes sculptures or whatever. Other things. Drawings, you know. Than the painting.

Was twenty-seven years people lived here without power and without light without, you know, gas, anything. Still they are with the problem with the military. You have no problem with that. But military walking around your Colombo area over there, you feel militarised, you know? And you don’t lost, you don’t have power for one hour, or you have, you don’t have fuel for one day, you’re changing the government.

All those things, most of the killings and the setting fire done by the organised mob. They went with their list. Who gave them list? Around six o’clock, the army is going with their armed vehicle and saying that’s enough now, six o’clock. Yeah? So they allowed people to loot. How you can forget about those things?

For me, for my transformation art is very important. You know as a person, for me personally. But beautiful things, after nineteen eighty-three, I couldn’t make beautiful things. You know, my subject matter was changed. When I, my study time in… in Sri Lanka, I paint my poor figures, ballerinas, and you know, dance, you know, happy paintings you can paint. But, after nineteen eighty-three I can’t paint happy paintings anymore.

Hello Thenu. How are you? So much happening.

Yeah, so much happening, a little bit away. Gave me a good chance for a look at from kind of satellite view.

Good, right? Yes. It’s difficult, right?

I also travel by bus or three-wheeler. The car is parked at home.

It’s very interesting to be here, this time…

Okay, yeah.

This time, in Sri Lanka, seeing your work.

This is a new camouflage. It’s coming out. Now you can see the tiny red lines are coming up,

Okay.

With the… my usual green, black and yellow.

This must have taking you a while.

Yeah.

It’s beautiful.

Now we have more yellow poles. Where the protests are?

Yes.

There will be more yellow poles, barricades.

Yeah.

I first introduced in two thousand and seven as a neobarrelism.

Yes, I remember.

That yellow poles.

Yes, I remember.

Now it’s become a post-neobarrelism now.

Right.

But it still continues. It might be, it will be, for, till two thousand and thirty, might be (laughs). Until we democratise. You know? Ourselves. Not the government. You know? First we have to democrat… Practise our democracy…

True.

Yeah. So, not to be violent. How to act and how to criticise. How to respect others’ opinions. We are not patient. You know, we’re not… We are, we are not patient enough, but we are sick.

Hi. How are you? Hello. Hi. Hi.

Every year I remind, commemorating the uncommemorative things. How pogrom happened. You know, you can, people come there and they remind… I always reminding them what happened.

Not to happen again, it. You can’t commemorate it, but it’s a uncommemorative event. So that is why this date, this twenty third of July is very important to have my exhibition. It marks the bloodiest thing [that] happened in Sri Lankan history. By the organised crime. By the government.