This has been a year of exploration. Exploration of bodies and identities. A year of separation. Separation from the repeated interactions of heteronormative desire, giving way to unfiltered curiosity. A need to establish intimacy, removed from the fear of judgement, the limiting binaries of right and wrong. What does it mean to be intimate with the inanimate?
Objectophilia. Falling in love with objects.
Where does this begin, and how does this end?
Isolation. A glass box of solitude. Sitting with your loneliness, nothing but objects to keep you company. Slowly, but surely, an increased appreciation for what never leaves your side, like your favourite blanket or soft toy. Comforting you like sunshine on a winter afternoon, being your closest confidante.
Interaction. A conversation. Talking, sharing, wondering. A juxtaposition of cool and warm. Hesitation at the unheard of, the seemingly forbidden. How to befriend something meant only to be used, to be sat on? How to see below the surface? Gradually, you soften. Apprehension giving way to tender touch. A reassuring pat on the back, clasping at the edges, seeking comfort.
Attachment. Falling in love. Spending days and nights, intertwined. Your lover keeping you afloat, anchoring you. No fights, no insecurity to be plagued with. Your lover has an essence, a voice. It speaks to you, saying your name.
Obsession. A spreading wildfire. Bright, burning yellow. You are all your lover has. That is how it must be. It gets dark. You claw, scratch and clutch. Refusing to let go, claiming your lover is calling out to you. Wanting you to stay. Your lover is all that you have. How to stay away?
Words by Reha Malik
Model - Gursahiba Shergill
Makeup - Shubhangi Pathak
Assistant Photographer - Abhinav
