A year ago in the hilltop town of Kirtipur overlooking Kathmandu, musicians started to experiment with a blend of Appalachian Bluegrass with the mewl of the sarangi from the Himalaya. Zoe Levitt, a Bluegrass mandolinist and songwriter from the US, and Prince Nepali, a fourth-generation sarangi player and educator, bonded well and established their Nepali-American folk fusion band, Manaslu Blue.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230521150536_dbba6249269f8f2cf5e3a1ce61bbee2da31f735947d02377ecf44ea6034c0b81.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230521150536_dbba6249269f8f2cf5e3a1ce61bbee2da31f735947d02377ecf44ea6034c0b81" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Manaslu Blue"> </figure>  One year later, Manaslu Blue debuted in KatGrass: Bluegrass &amp; Nepali Folk Fusion Concert to a diverse audience of Nepali and international enthusiasts in an evening of high-energy music, dancing, and cheers at Moksh. Manaslu Blue has Prince Nepali on sarangi, Zoe Levitt on mandolin, Anish Tamang on guitar, Sabin Ghising on flute, Yuson Maharjan on percussion, and Ryan O’Donnell on vocals and guitar (featured guest artist for KatGras). The musicians are united in their effort to preserve traditional music with members particularly concerned about preserving folk music and their unique instruments like the sarangi, bansuri, and damaha.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230521150536_ffcdd0197a4e00e4f4d9a693b3a87dc523e5c1db65b29f368e73fc7fdbbec357.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230521150536_ffcdd0197a4e00e4f4d9a693b3a87dc523e5c1db65b29f368e73fc7fdbbec357" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Manaslu Blue"> </figure>  “The new generation does not have folk artists to look up to, traditional musicians need to be recognised if we want to preserve our folk tunes,” says Prince Nepali who runs classes in Sarangi Ghar. Nepali is also looking to make archives of traditional songs, including some composed by his great-grandfather.&nbsp; Guitarist Anish Tamang adds that many younger Nepalis, as well as musicians look up to Western genres, prioritising it over traditional music. This has also meant that there are not as many platforms to learn traditional music.&nbsp; Manaslu Blue has an upcoming EP which will highlight Nepali folk music and musicians, and help listeners recognise the band members as artists who can inspire new, younger audiences. Bluegrass and Nepali folk music come from different corners of the world, however, unlike sheet music, both styles are traditional and are learned by ear.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230521150540_8f4a8d4981cc1ff4a4100769bacafe9cd498312165d733b39e47575e606a1b2f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230521150540_8f4a8d4981cc1ff4a4100769bacafe9cd498312165d733b39e47575e606a1b2f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Manaslu Blue"> </figure>  The musicians have to listen to one another and play what feels right to them at the moment. Since everyone in the band is comfortable with improvisation, the band produces something new every time they perform, a unique charm that defines the band’s synergy. The music alternates between the use of different instruments like mandolin, flute, sarangi, percussion, and guitar as everybody plays in sync as well as spaces out to give every instrument their unique solos and voices.&nbsp; Fusing folk music with Bluegrass also opens the door to experimentation, diverse collaborations, and unique music. The band plans to introduce this fusion to a global audience, starting with Bluegrass festivals around the globe to surprise different musical communities. “Nepali bands often target the Nepali diaspora when touring internationally. Manaslu Blue wants to introduce it to a larger audience, like at Bluegrass festivals and folk festivals and beyond, so Nepali folk music gets exposure to different demographics,” says Zoe Levitt, adding that the band is open to collaborating with folk musicians from around the world.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230521150540_28fd8caca9031aaa7fef03dd178b3937c11f57c188a62267e67f883f0d96d339.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230521150540_28fd8caca9031aaa7fef03dd178b3937c11f57c188a62267e67f883f0d96d339" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Manaslu Blue"> </figure>  Band manager Akriti Maya, has her job cut out for herself with Bluegrass being a new musical genre in Nepal. She says: “Fusion can be scary, but when they work, it is almost like they are philosophically connected.” For Maya, folk music is synergetic and works well in courtyards where people from different communities let themselves indulge in the unique mixture of their folk music and dance. At Moksh last week, Americans toe-tapped to the Bluegrass tunes while the Nepalis waved their hands, combining dance steps from both traditions.&nbsp; Manaslu Blue members bridge the musical distance between the Appalachian and Himalayan mountains. The members are united by their shared love for the music and the traditional instruments that produce the sound.&nbsp; Ryan O’Donnell, a featured guest of the band, puts it best: “The music is powerful, beautiful, spellbinding – it is a very logical combination.”&nbsp;

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Review

In Nepal, East meets West musically

The Tibeto-Burman language <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11362">Thangmi (or Thami)</a> is spoken by 33,500 Nepalis. Historically unwritten and genetically related to Nepal Bhasa, Rai, or Baram, the language is also among the least documented in Nepal.&nbsp; But this will change thanks to a new two-volume monograph, A Grammar of the Thangmi Language, by Vancouver-based anthropologist and linguist Mark Turin. Originally published in the Netherlands in 2012 by Brill, it was launched last month by Social Science Baha and Himal Books and is now available to the Thangmi-speaking community and researchers in Nepal and India.&nbsp; Thangmi has two major dialects spoken in Dolakha and Sindhupalchok, and there is a wide variation even between them, with differences in verbal agreement systems. For example, the word for गुँरास is completely different on the two sides of the Bhote Kosi River. The verbs ‘to come’ or ‘to go’ are different according to the direction whence and whither the speaker sees the object of the sentence arrive or leave.&nbsp; Turin’s involvement with Thangmi dates back to 1996 when he moved to the Netherlands for a PhD at Leiden University, where he joined the Himalayan Languages Project under the tutelage of George van Driem, himself a Himalayan researcher. Turin had lived in Nepal previously, researching Thakali in lower Mustang. “I was in George’s office looking at this incredible map of the Himalayas with coloured pins and flags on it, and he asked me which language I would like to work on,” recalls Turin.&nbsp; The pins showed the locations of endangered and undocumented languages. Turin chose one which read थामी. By the spring of 1997, he was living in Damarang in Dolakha, learning and studying Thangmi.&nbsp; Among the more than 100 languages spoken in Nepal, many boast a robust documentary tradition, either by the community, foreign linguists, or both. However, when Turin began his research – and this was before Google and when the internet was still a fledgling – he searched the web got the only one hit: Joshua 2000, a group of missionaries who had identified the world’s least evangelised 100 peoples with the goal to bring the scriptures to the communities by 2000 AD, and the Thangmi were among them.&nbsp; “There was no comprehensive documentation then, a few hundred words had been compiled in a list by a few French and Japanese linguists and some Nepalis – but nothing beyond that,” Turin says. “It was striking how you could be in Kathmandu in the cusp of the new millennium and there was a language spoken not far away, and so little was known about it other than by the community itself.”&nbsp; Turin’s approach to the study of Thangmi was influenced by his interest in relationships and recording stories. People would walk long distances to bring him words or plants that he had not documented. Trained in anthropology, he was not studying the language, but rather learning it. The work was in the service of the community rather than solely in service of the language.&nbsp; “It is important to recognise local expertise not just as something you can extract but reimburse and elevate through co-publishing, co-authoring,” he says. “To try and offset the incredible differences of power, access and imbalance so the community’s own research can be promoted and made more visible.” Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation">Lost in Translation</a>, Alisha Sijapati This was when the Adivasi-Janjati movement, calling for recognition, reparation and justice for caste and ethnic discrimination was beginning in Nepal. There were demands for more proportionate representation of indigenous communities, including Thangmi, that had not got attention by the Nepali state for various political and cultural reasons. “Many communities like the Thangmi were looking for some kind of representation,” Turin says. “It was very clear that as much as I was working with the language-speakers, they were working with me. Language is valuable to people as it is the emotional, effective, embodied experience of their sense of self.”&nbsp; What this meant was taking local positions around language seriously. well. “For example, if the community says ‘this is sensitive, don’t write it down’, then don’t write it down,” he adds. “Some things are lost if they are not written down – but that is not my prerogative, it’s the community’s decision.” But there are often two points-of-views: linguistic and political. This is conspicuous in the case of the use of terms ‘Thami’ or ‘Thangmi’, and the proposed script for the language.&nbsp; The case of the ethnonyms presents an interesting debate. ‘Thami’ is a Nepalified term for ‘Thangmi’, and many older members of the community believe they should continue using the word because it is familiar at a national level. But the younger generation favours the endonym ‘Thangmi’.&nbsp; There are also discussions whether to use the Devanagari to write the language or invent a new, unique script. Thangmi is Tibetan-Burman but Devnagari is used to write Nepali, an Indo-European language. How appropriate is it for a writing system generated within one language family to map on to another? While this happens all the time – Nepal Bhasa is written in Ranjana or Prachalit scripts – Turin points out that there is also the matter of history, and an ethnic-cultural distinctiveness.&nbsp; While Devanagari would be more practical for Thangmi than Tibetan scripts, for example, the political backlash could be this it is also the script used by Brahmins and the Chhetris who have historically overlooked the community, he remarks. “Ramesh Thangmi and others in the community are looking at the scripts used by the Limbu community as a possibility for Thangmi,” he adds.&nbsp; There is also the issue of language revitalisation. Many Thangmi speakers remark that, growing up in the 90s especially, their parents would encourage them to speak in Nepali to fit in. &nbsp;Documentation is one step to reverse the devitalisation – as the monograph is testament. “But I feel like the real work has just begun,” says Turin. “Many languages have been documented in Nepal while others not, but it is an ongoing process. Then there is the future-proofing of that documentation through digitisation or archiving.”&nbsp; The last step is to connect, to publish the collection of documents, analyses, and to get them into schools. “And this never ends,” adds Turin. “Nepal now is in a great position with the new constitution and schools becoming more inclusive. Not a single young Thangmi speaker I know is mono-lingual and that is as it should be. This helps support innovation in the language, for Thangmi — as all languages — is always evolving.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023051409058_214074c1d1f296adde6d3a28c8eedf7468f9b5275413412c04a3d85e5743faa7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023051409058_214074c1d1f296adde6d3a28c8eedf7468f9b5275413412c04a3d85e5743faa7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2370" height="1175" loading="lazy" alt="Deciphering Thangmi Books"> </figure>  Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/at-the-edge-of-tomorrow">At the edge of tomorrow,</a> Mark Turin

Ashish Dhakal

Deciphering Thangmi

Maggie Doyne was a wide-eyed 19-year-old in 2006 when she came to Nepal to backpack. But she was not trekking to Everest Base Camp or the Annapurnas. She was in the remote Karnali region where tourists seldom venture. While walking along a dry river bed in Surkhet, she spotted a 6-year-old girl helping her mother break boulders for a construction contractor. The two smiled at each other.&nbsp; Her name was Hima Tamata, and she became the reason Maggie Doyne stayed on in Nepal to help disadvantaged children in the Karnali with money she earned from baby-sitting back home in Mendham, New Jersey. Seventeen years later, the act of enrolling Hima in school has grown into the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BlinkNow.org/" target="_blank">BlinkNow Foundation</a> that runs the Kopila Valley Children’s Home and School in Surkhet. Along the way, Maggie Doyne was named CNN Hero in 2015, and has been featured in The New York Times, Forbes, and this newspaper. She was named Woman of the Year by Glamour magazine — all of this helping fundraise for BlinkNow’s many activities, which include educating 500 children at the Kopila school and vocational training for women. Kopila proves that high-quality education can be free, and its <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/starting-nepal-s-green-school-movement" target="_blank">new campus in Surkhet</a> is a model for sustainable architecture with rammed earth walls, rainwater harvesting, solar cooking, and a vegetable farm. Last year, Doyne’s biography <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-stone-breaker-s-daughter" target="_blank">Between the Mountain and the Sky: A Mother's Story of Hope and Love</a> was published by HarperCollins in North America, and the South Asian edition is being launched on 29 April in Kathmandu. The book is an emotional coming-of-age story of how one gap year student can change the world. Along the way, there are personal hurdles, financial challenges, the tragic loss of two children, and finally finding love.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230427080456_b7f7d80b54efafb15bff7c3c2fcc9fb28dc814278bc12f16e890bb626b208a03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230427080456_b7f7d80b54efafb15bff7c3c2fcc9fb28dc814278bc12f16e890bb626b208a03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1795" height="1795" loading="lazy" alt="Maggie Doyne"> </figure>  Parents, including her own, back in the States do not understand why Doyne is not in college like everyone else’s kids. She does not fully comprehend it herself, but knows it was all because of one little girl breaking stones by the river in Surkhet. Doyne grapples with contradictions about Nepal: ‘I wonder how a culture that so celebrates children can also fail at protecting them … How can we alleviate suffering and improve the lives of children without westernising the world?’ As charities in Nepal have found out the hard way, there are obstacles when they try to do the work that the government should be doing. A powerful local Maoist implicated in the abuse of a 13-year-old girl gets journalists to smear Kopila, and suddenly there are death threats and physical attacks Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-stone-breaker-s-daughter">The stone-breaker's daughter</a>, Ram Tamang We’ve crossed the line,’ Doyne recalls. ‘We’re no longer just feeding the forgotten women and children of Nepal; we’re empowering them. Nobody asked us to do that.’ She develops strong bonds with two &nbsp;rescued children: Juntara who has a tumour in her eye, and little Ravi who was found abandoned. Losing them scars Doyne deeply, but she gradually rebuilds inner strength by finding personal love, and a renewed motivation to expand and sustain Kopila. Just like the old song ‘Love will keep us together’, in the end it is love for Nepal and her children, for her co-workers that inspires Doyne. She writes: ‘We can choose love. We can create the world we want to live in, and the first step is believing that it’s possible.’ After nearly two decades, Doyne says it is time for her to step back from the limelight and put the focus on Nepali change-makers like Tope Malla who will take Kopila’s mission into the future.&nbsp; Doyne writes, ‘As people in positions of privilege and power, it is our responsibility to help, not constantly be the centre of the story.' Kopila’s alumni are now in jobs and universities around the world, they are teachers, scientists, farmers, entrepreneurs and even a striker in Nepal’s national female football team.&nbsp; <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-stone-breaker-s-daughter" target="_blank">Hima Tamata</a> is now a confident 24-year-old chef. Inspired by her friend and mentor, &nbsp;she wants to help other Nepalis like her. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/starting-nepal-s-green-school-movement">Starting Nepal's green school movement</a>, Sheilin Teo  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230427080448_7a9f70a2a6f8fd67d35d06b073f622a1e3f7f8439344ede573276aeb3675c1b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230427080448_7a9f70a2a6f8fd67d35d06b073f622a1e3f7f8439344ede573276aeb3675c1b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Maggie Doyne"> </figure>

Kunda Dixit

Love and loss. Healing and hope.

A piece of fabric can take on a dynamic meaning in art, as evidenced by eeSofiya Maharjan’s works currently on display at Dalai La Art Space in Thamel. Viewers are made aware of delicate childhood memories: clutching on to one’s mother’s hem for a sense of security, or perhaps to call, to seek attention, to be invited into a world that is at the outset far from reach for a young child. Maharjan plays not only with her own memory but also that of her mother’s, and this is the central theme of the exhibition Absence Unbothered. Raised by a single mother who left her husband when Maharjan was only eight, she is as inspired by her mother’s nostalgia for her own childhood as she is by how that yearning and the stories told by her mother shaped her own experience growing up.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230423120412_d0550e05cd9d442efbaf847e58bdcd2c4f4343f32bfe68ac615b1183a4056189.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230423120412_d0550e05cd9d442efbaf847e58bdcd2c4f4343f32bfe68ac615b1183a4056189" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Absence Unbothered art review"> </figure>  Maharjan’s works are visually striking and unique in their execution. Using white fabric, stitch and photo transfer, a vision of an absence is rendered to canvas – an absence of a man, a father, and that her mother made sure the children never felt in their lives. The artworks express a profound sense of loss worsened by the patriarchal fist that limits a woman’s choice, freedom and desires, but at their core, they are about an absence that is not present. The absence also gave her brother an opportunity to step up, filling in the role of her father, as shown by ‘Jhin Nima’. The idea had been in the back of Maharjan’s mind for some time, but it did not start to take form until her third year in college when she worked with her family archives. “At the time, I was not entirely sure what the idea looked like concretely,” she recalls, “but it was in the middle of the pandemic and that allowed me a chance to know my mother more intimately.” She began to collect stories of her mamaghar, where she was close with her mother's family. Her mother, too, would tell her and her brother stories of her own childhood in fragments, which then Maharjan would piece together like stitching together a large, colourful tapestry of joys and sorrows, laughter and comfort – almost a precursor to her matured works in the exhibition, where these emotions and stories get concrete shape in objects such as gherwa lamps, karuwa, dalchaa and gha.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042312048_00264e19f39a96d9972efc9af08c3554998ddd0a989f5c23699e9ca3360d1f74.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023042312048_00264e19f39a96d9972efc9af08c3554998ddd0a989f5c23699e9ca3360d1f74" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Absence Unbothered art review"> </figure>  The objects themselves take on a double significance in Absence unbothered. While they are most naturally the tangible connection her mother has with her past, they also speak of another added layer. When her mother left her husband and his family, she had to leave behind many things that she had collected over the years. Some of them were gifts of love from family members while others were fruits of her own hard work. “When I was growing up, many of my friends used to wear their mother’s jewellery and clothes, but that was not possible for me,” says Maharjan. “When I used to ask my mother for her things, she would say, ‘Oh, I left that behind’. She used to miss them but did not have anything from her past with her that she could share with me.” Now, the cousins on her father’s side wear the same jewellery and clothes and seeing this fills her with sadness. Maharjan’s mother now keeps a clothing store in Pinchhen in Lalitpur, she re-collected all that she lost: the cha: cha:, the ghadi. The fabric Maharjan uses is also inspired by clothes she found in the store. “And she worked hard, standing tall and independent, warmly holding us in her arms, and giving us space and peace,” says Maharjan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042312048_4eed148e551efb391e8aeb83934b679e4dda97be6a44f25c60f74ccac4d9df97.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023042312048_4eed148e551efb391e8aeb83934b679e4dda97be6a44f25c60f74ccac4d9df97" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Absence Unbothered art review"> </figure>  This fact is immediately represented by a series of three larger works, which show a mother with her children. Each is faceless and the details are in their clothes, meticulous stitchwork that add depth and an inviting texture. Here, it becomes apparent that the story Maharjan is telling is not just her own but of countless young people who grow up in a similar absence.&nbsp; “There were times when I felt the difference from many of my classmates who grew up in families with fathers,” says Maharjan, who is 26 now. “But not anymore. My mother built a house without a husband and that’s okay. It has brought us closer. I am who I am now because my father was not around.” Absence Unbothered Sofiya Maharjan Dalai La Art Space, Thamel Until 6 May

Girl, unbothered

The Sherpa high altitude guides who take climbers to the tops of Himalayan peaks and glory have for decades been nameless and consigned to the shadows. They are also exposed to the most dangerous parts of mountains for the longest period -- as the tragic death of three guides on the Khumbu Icefall this month proved. Things were not much different back in the autumn of 1990 when Pasang Lhamu Sherpa attempted to climb Mt Everest. The French leader of the expedition she was with ordered her to go back down. He seemed to be worried Pasang would steal the thunder from his climbers.&nbsp; As it turned out, Christine Janine became the first French woman to climb the world’s highest peak as Pasang Lhamu looked on from a lower camp. She realised it was her identity as a Nepali Sherpa woman that prevented her from getting to the top too. This ordeal only made her more determined to become the first Nepali woman to conquer Chomolungma. Pasang: In the Shadow of Everest is an inspiring story of the ambition, dedication, and triumph of this amazing woman. In equal part, it is the retelling of a tragedy that transcends socio-cultural boundaries.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230422040440_a41b978e19c989753156c07a2cdebb4d5fcc2b3637e5143cdff192f4d8e1e6a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230422040440_a41b978e19c989753156c07a2cdebb4d5fcc2b3637e5143cdff192f4d8e1e6a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="719" height="478" loading="lazy" alt="Nancy Svendsen, Ang Dorjee Sherpa, and Dawa Yangzum"> <figcaption>From left: Dawa Yangzum, Ang Dorjee Sherpa and Director Nancy Svendsen.</figcaption> </figure>  "Her incredible story moved me," says Nancy Svendsen, the director of the 72-minute documentary that premiered on 19 April, ahead of the 30th anniversary of Pasang Lhamu’s historic climb on 22 April 1993, and the 70th anniversary of the first climb on 29 May 1953.&nbsp; Svendsen was first introduced to Pasang Lhamu not as a Nepali national hero, but as the late sister of her brother-in-law, Ang Dorjee Sherpa. But the climber’s story resonated strongly with Svendsen who had worked in corporate America, a field traditionally dominated by men. "From that moment, I have been working to gather her archival footage and pictures. I started with very little. We had maybe a few home videos and scrapbooks of pictures her daughter gave me, and that was it," recalls Svendsen. Pasang Lhamu came from a deprived farming family so much of her climbs and expeditions were never filmed. But Pasang makes it work with press footage combined with contemporary photos to portray her life. Svendsen has also deployed clever edits and animation to show Pasang Lhamu’s last journey. The entire production took 10 years with Svendsen changing her career to become a first-time filmmaker to locate and interview the late mountaineer’s colleagues, including Pemba Norbu, the last person to see Pasang Lhamu alive. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/on-screen-mountains">On-screen mountains</a>, Sahina Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230422040440_720c4705cb02a6e2881cc63ae2188da46c580cb200f2202977e3c8c5a6841163.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230422040440_720c4705cb02a6e2881cc63ae2188da46c580cb200f2202977e3c8c5a6841163" data-rendition-name="original" width="452" height="700" loading="lazy" alt="thumbnail_Pasang-Lhamu-Sherpa"> <figcaption>Pasang Lhamu Sherpa</figcaption> </figure>  "It seems much like everything even risk-taking is gendered," says Dawa Futi Sherpa, Pasang Lhamu's eldest daughter and president of the Pasang Lhamu Foundation and Nepal’s former ambassador to Spain. "For the longest time my mother was criticised for leaving her family and takings risks with her life even as she was doing it for her country and Nepali women." Pasang Lhamu, born the only daughter of a Sherpa mountaineer, was not allowed to go to school or mountaineering with her brothers like the majority of Nepali women of her time. She eloped, escaping an arranged marriage, with Lhakpa Sonam Sherpa and opened her own trekking company in Kathmandu. Mother to three, she was a homemaker determined to level the status of Nepali women to what Western women had at that time. It was not necessarily her mountaineering skill she wanted to prove. Her struggle is seen in the backdrop of Nepal's quest for democracy as she clashes with the prime minister, political parties, and Western mountaineers to fund her expeditions. As she embarks on her fourth and final mission to Everest, we can see how the subordinate status inflicted on her for being a woman, a Sherpa, and a Nepali led to decisions that proved to be fatal for her and her team in that 1993 expedition. Pasang: In the Shadow of Everest brings the real Pasang Lhamu Sherpa to life, beyond what little is depicted in school textbooks while also addressing controversies surrounding her final climb through first-hand accounts. It equally showcases her trailblazing character that led to national mourning after her demise. "Climbing Mt Everest as a Nepali woman then is harder than climbing 14 peaks now," notes Dawa Yangzum Sherpa, the first Nepali international mountain guide who was at the premiere of the film in Kathmandu this week. Dawa Yangzum Sherpa herself started her career by climbing the Pasang Lhamu Foundation walls, and says that a whole generation of Nepali women mountaineers has grown up inspired by the legacy of Pasang Lhamu. After Pasang Lhamu, 65 Nepali women have scaled Mt Everest. Winner of 14 international film awards, Pasang: In the Shadow of Everest honors the legendary climber while also delving into the realities of Sherpas, often sidelined in mountaineering films. Public screenings of the Nepali version will begin on 28 April and there are plans for shows in 15 locations in Kosi and Madhes provinces with donations raised during its Nepali premiere. House Speaker Dev Raj Ghimire and famed ophthalmologist Sanduk Ruit were among the attendees at the premiere where Ang Dorjee Sherpa said: "This documentary will encourage Nepali women to dream big and conquer their summits." Read Also: <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/women-take-over-the-%20mountains,1868" target="blank">After Everest and K2, Sherpa women set sights on Kanchenjunga</a>, Tsering Dolker Gurung <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/all-women-nepali-team-scale-k2,1557" target="blank">Ketis on K2</a>, Ayesha Shakya <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/k2-women-nepal,1610" target="blank">Conquering the world</a>, Pasang Lhamu Sherpa Akita <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/WOMEN-ON-TOP,236" target="blank">Women on top</a>, Tsering Dolker Gurung <div class="embed-block"><iframe id="aswift_0" name="aswift_0" sandbox="allow-forms allow-popups allow-popups-to-escape-sandbox allow-same-origin allow-scripts allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation" width="718" height="0" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" vspace="0" hspace="0" allowtransparency="true" scrolling="no" src="https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?client=ca-pub-6415359448570403&amp;output=html&amp;h=180&amp;slotname=1392833685&amp;adk=461865442&amp;adf=3145719360&amp;pi=t.ma~as.1392833685&amp;w=718&amp;fwrn=4&amp;lmt=1682131490&amp;rafmt=11&amp;format=718x180&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Farchive.nepalitimes.com%2Farticle%2FNepali-Times-Buzz%2Fnepali-mountaineer-breaking-barriers%2C2708&amp;wgl=1&amp;adsid=ChAI8OiIogYQ0pOKyM7hx5U3EjkA3d-9b1mqGISDvdad8KAx3AewqDjyt9En6FuVBwQ5_OqP8GNB75I6e4TO0kQbDFGrRvZVZo9DZfI&amp;uach=WyJtYWNPUyIsIjEzLjIuMSIsImFybSIsIiIsIjExMS4wLjU1NjMuNjQiLFtdLGZhbHNlLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTExLjAuNTU2My42NCJdLFsiTm90KEE6QnJhbmQiLCI4LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJDaHJvbWl1bSIsIjExMS4wLjU1NjMuNjQiXV0sZmFsc2Vd&amp;dt=1682131427262&amp;bpp=2&amp;bdt=367&amp;idt=788&amp;shv=r20230418&amp;mjsv=m202304130102&amp;ptt=9&amp;saldr=aa&amp;abxe=1&amp;cookie=ID%3Dc5b4cdb05cf8144d-229b93d9a5de0091%3AT%3D1680592509%3AS%3DALNI_Mamkt9UmuQGMOCGLpZz_oPKpUIwdw&amp;gpic=UID%3D00000bebd63f863d%3AT%3D1680592509%3ART%3D1682128380%3AS%3DALNI_Ma_YtFySMX09AOoZZN28vO0GUGzPA&amp;prev_fmts=0x0&amp;nras=1&amp;correlator=4350293643221&amp;frm=20&amp;pv=1&amp;ga_vid=2032045364.1680592509&amp;ga_sid=1682131428&amp;ga_hid=371399134&amp;ga_fc=1&amp;rplot=4&amp;u_tz=345&amp;u_his=1&amp;u_h=900&amp;u_w=1440&amp;u_ah=813&amp;u_aw=1440&amp;u_cd=30&amp;u_sd=2&amp;dmc=8&amp;adx=207&amp;ady=3244&amp;biw=1440&amp;bih=657&amp;scr_x=0&amp;scr_y=691&amp;eid=44759926%2C44759842%2C44759875%2C31073974%2C31074012%2C42531706&amp;oid=2&amp;pvsid=2703339081112636&amp;tmod=178841159&amp;uas=0&amp;nvt=1&amp;ref=https%3A%2F%2Fnepalitimes.com%2F&amp;fc=896&amp;brdim=0%2C25%2C0%2C25%2C1440%2C25%2C1440%2C793%2C1440%2C657&amp;vis=1&amp;rsz=%7C%7CEebr%7C&amp;abl=CS&amp;pfx=0&amp;fu=128&amp;bc=31&amp;jar=2023-04-22-02&amp;ifi=1&amp;uci=a!1&amp;btvi=1&amp;fsb=1&amp;xpc=4JnXA4eA5J&amp;p=https%3A//archive.nepalitimes.com&amp;dtd=63261" data-google-container-id="a!1" data-google-query-id="CKu69o-8vP4CFYgIXAodE-4JOg" data-load-complete="true" style="overflow: hidden; left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 0px; border: 0px; width: 718px; height: 0px;"></iframe></div>

Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, the film

When the Indian and Eurasian plates collided violently starting 40 million years ago, it not only gave Nepal the world’s youngest mountain range but also a string of hot springs right across the country from east to west.&nbsp; Nearly all of these hot springs lie close to and north of the Main Central Thrust (the main fault line along where the Indian Plate pushes user the Eruasian one) and the south of the Main Boundary Fault (the line separating the Siwalik from the older rocks to the north).&nbsp; The same geological reason Nepal has frequent earthquakes is also what gives the country almost all its known geothermal springs (see map).&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230419110452_a19ef4a699a7ca8c88ffd172ebd25718030f7eb9d3868c63bcfbb749ba62f5ee.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230419110452_a19ef4a699a7ca8c88ffd172ebd25718030f7eb9d3868c63bcfbb749ba62f5ee" data-rendition-name="original" width="1309" height="796" loading="lazy" alt="Location of hot springs"> </figure>  Nearly all houses in Iceland are heated with geothermal energy, but Japan has not allowed geothermal electricity generation because of fears it will affect its onsen hot springs. Nepal, however, has still not been able to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/getting-tourism-out-of-hot-waters-nepal,3030">fully exploit hot springs</a>, neither for health nor energy. &nbsp; Nepalis have traditionally used hot springs for balneotherapy, dipping in the steaming waters to treat everything from skin disease to arthritis, not enough has been to study the potential for geothermal energy. A detailed location of known hot springs and their energy potential are hard to come by. &nbsp; Now, the new book <a href="https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-3-030-99500-3">Hot Springs in Nepal: Health Benefits and Geothermal Applications</a> by geothermal researcher and renewable energy consultant Mahendra Ranjit looks to change that. The book gives readers a general idea of geothermal springs in Nepal and the medicinal and socio-cultural values of these sites. Ranjit even looks at the use of geothermal water for electricity generation, industrial applications and geo-cooling. Most thermal springs in Nepal are located very close to the Main Central Thrust or the Main Boundary Fault with heat flow within the global mean range (60-80 mW/m2), meaning that the heat acting on the spring water is likely to be of tectonic origin. A hydro-geological investigation in the Kali Gandaki area indicated that in the Nepal Himalaya, the surface water seeps deep beneath the ground and gets heated due to the high temperature before rising to the surface along the fractures. &nbsp; Hot springs along the length of the Himalaya in 21 of 77 districts have a spa-like temperatures, and only two springs have water as hot as 80C. This means most hot springs in Nepal are ideal for spa resorts if properly developed. This lower temperature of hot springs was why earlier studies conducted by the Alternate Energy Promotion Center (AEPC) and others found that electricity generation from geothermal steam would not be viable.&nbsp; Even so, Ranjit discusses a 2018 study at Bhurung Tatopani in Myagdi district concluded that a stand-alone hybrid solar-geothermal Organic Ranking Cycle (ORC) system is feasible for power generation and is economically viable. The AEPC also sponsored a feasibility study to generate electricity from Paduwar hot spring through a hybrid system. Other geothermal sites where the surface water can be used directly without having to mix it with other sources like solar or wind to increase the temperature is yet to be identified. Ranjit writes that if higher subsurface temperatures can be accessed through drilling, it would eliminate the need for hybrid system and make electricity production more feasible. The key issue though is how long a hybrid or direct drilled system can be sustained without knowing the reservoir capacity. Before moving to electricity generation, Ranjit notes, it is necessary to conduct drilling, resource assessment, and reservoir numerical modeling. Ranjit also discusses studies conducted in 2019 around geo-cooling at Aaurahi of Mahottari, which showed that it is economically feasible when used for more than 5 hours a day. The book maps out the location and present condition of the 22 hot springs in Nepal, and discusses the health benefits of hot and mineral spring water including balneotherapy, spa, hydrotherapy and contrast therapy as well as case studies around health and cultural aspects of hot springs in the country which could also be major tourist attractions along trekking routes. Impact assessment of infrastructure in Nepal now also need to look at how projects might affect hot springs. In Japan communities have preserved the natural and traditional look of hot springs, and Ranjit also makes a case for the need to limit modern interventions at thermal sites in Nepal. The book also has a useful guide for visitors on the etiquette for using hot springs in Nepal. While words surrounding geothermal energy are conspicuously missing or rare in national plans, in the last chapter, Ranjit looks at the prospects of geothermal development in Nepal and lists actions needed to exploit geothermal energy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023041912040_9e125db3b062c43b87da024b28eac7f783341fb1944e779cd0e15ba4c4ccc747.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023041912040_9e125db3b062c43b87da024b28eac7f783341fb1944e779cd0e15ba4c4ccc747" data-rendition-name="original" width="576" height="317" loading="lazy" alt="Hot spring book"> </figure>

Sahina Shrestha

The heat beneath our feet

When Nepalis run into each other on the street, most greet each other with&nbsp; “खाना खानु भो ?” which literally means ‘have you eaten your rice’? It is our ‘good morning’, ‘good evening’ and everything in between. And one is not supposed to respond with a detailed account of the food that was eaten. But what is it about dal bhat that Nepalis (and many visitors) just cannot do without? It is a comfort food, like a warm hug. For Nepalis outside Nepal, it is a reminder of home. And some trekkers seem to get addicted to the carb kick dal bhat gives.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dal-bhat-power">Dal bhat power</a>, Ashish Dhakal “It is so wholesome, so tasty. Perhaps it is tasty because it is wholesome,” explains Prabigya Basnet of Bhojan Griha, a Nepali restaurant in Nepal that has just reopened in a renovated historic building in Dilli Bazar.&nbsp; She adds: “Everything is freshly cooked and prepared, there are all these spices and different flavours. It is a balanced diet, it is ayurveda on a plate.” Bhojan Griha offers options for everyone: vegetarian, non-vegetarian and even vegans. White fluffy rice (or brown, or red) flavoured with ghee, warm and hearty lentil soup, seasonal vegetables, a potato dish and achar, perhaps of gundruk, lapsi or radish. A bowl of yogurt or a glass of lassi can be a refreshing accompaniment. For meat lovers, there is either a chicken or mutton curry. Some add fish or eggs to the set. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/exploring-nepal-s-culinary-diversity">Exploring Nepal's culinary diversity</a>, Kedar Sharma and Kiran Sharma  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230416090420_9febddb94243b93618aa8346eb45ababdff1cd5f8dd39fdcf786b9dc31c83e0a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230416090420_9febddb94243b93618aa8346eb45ababdff1cd5f8dd39fdcf786b9dc31c83e0a" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1688" loading="lazy" alt="Bhojan Griha"> <figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  At Bhojan Griha most dishes are prepared using organic produce from Basnet’s family-run<a href="https://khalikhutta.com/three-trees-permaculture-living-our-ethics/"> Three Trees Permaculture Farm</a> in Bhaktapur. “The idea is to share and preserve ethnic Nepali cuisine, and give visitors a flavour of Nepali food and culture,” says Basnet, as a group performs Tamang selo dance number between the low-set chairs and tables.&nbsp; Before the main course, there are starters: makai and bhatmas combo (popcorn and soybean), alu-jira (a quintessentially Nepali potato with cumin pickle), aila (the potent Newa liquor), steamed momo and quati (the healthy sprout bean broth).&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/featured-videos/recipe-for-nepali-culinary-diversity">Exploring Nepal's culinary diversity</a>, Sahina Shrestha Dal bhat is served on a traditional chares ko thal (a brass plate) with the black lentil and greens arrayed around a mound of rice. Seasonal vegetable dishes, including cauliflower and mushroom, are added, as are chicken and mutton curries.&nbsp; Bhojan Griha has a set menu but also does à la carte with festival-specific menus. The day this reviewer visited, most tables were taken inside the newly-refurbished interior.&nbsp; The restaurant is housed in a 150-year-old heritage building that was once the residence of the royal priest of the kings of Nepal. It was set up in 1998 by tourism entrepreneur Bharat Basnet who renovated the crumbling building. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/satisfying-trekker-appetite-for-adventure?preview_nonce=d05c21ba9f&amp;preview=true">Satisfying trekker appetite for adventure</a>, Sanghamitra Subba Says Prabigya Basnet about her father’s passion for nature and culture: “Growing up, he used to take us for clean-up campaigns and bird-watching, he made us outdoorsy and nature lovers, he always said we can give back a lot. So I always dreamt of doing something in Nepal,”&nbsp; She also heads <a href="https://khetibazaar.com/">Kheti Bazar</a> which sells fresh produce from the family’s farm and has a store called <a href="https://khalikhutta.com/">Khali Khutta</a> that specialises in handmade products made with ethically sourced, biodegradable materials. At Rs3,525 per plate, Bhojan Griha is on the pricer side, and perhaps could have experimented with some of its dishes. But the new modern ambience and historic setting make for a gastronomically stimulating night out.&nbsp;

Sonia Awale

Khana khanu bho?

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe113c9c7e80680e0da4cfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1688"/><figcaption>Photos: SURESH L YONJAN</figcaption></figure>Taragaon Next’s ‘Object in Focus’ is a unique series that brings one object by one artist addressing one big idea.Envisioned by curator Roshan Mishra to invite contemplation of contemporary art in Nepal, the series also featured the works of visual artists Koka Vashakidze from Georgia and Alicia Junissaliyeva from Kazakhstan about the origins of Boudhanath next door in a symbolic reprise.Now, Kathmandu’s own Bidhata KC takes centre stage to depict the interconnectedness between daily life, consumerism, globalisation and spirituality.A single installation connects heaven and earth through a metallic pole, like a bridge for elementary particles to commute. Two circular bars spread out, between which are the unmistakable mani prayer wheels.Auspiciously and coincidentally 21 in number, something is different about these wheels – they in fact look like tin cans, with corrugated bands an abstraction for the mantra that traditionally decorate the wheels. For support, oblique rods slant out from the circumference to the base of the pole.‘Object in Focus #6: Out of emptiness’ has a myriad of figures in addition to the mani wheels: a slightly open upside down umbrella, a downward arrow, or maybe a funnel. Such inversion may come naturally, especially with the overall and immediate image of things pointing towards the ground. Yet, the longer one looks, there is a sense of calm, an echo or reflection of shifting perspectives.The viewer may even rotate the wheels and reproduce for themselves the feeling of walking through a sacred shrine, participating in the great cosmic churning of consciousness. One of the many theories behind the mani wheel, after all, is that rotating mantra relate to yogic or Tantric practices whereby practitioners visualise the mantra revolving around their nadi. It is doubly symbolic to consider that the rotations also indicate reading or chanting.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe11409c7e80680e0da4d0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">The exercise in abstraction does not end there. When we consider the material design of KC’s artwork, it opens several other cans of worms (as it were). The use of tinplate cans, steel coated with a thin layer of tin, is climate-conscious art since steel cans are the most recycled closed-loop packaging material. These increase the shelf-lives of products, protect them from damage by light, oxidation, extremes of temperature and contamination, safeguarding flavour, appearance and quality from factory to consumer.Now, transform this thought on to KC’s artwork: this striking marriage of generations-long spiritual traditions and a corrosion-resistant symbol of consumerism with an ecological meaning gives one pause. What is KC trying to say here? One does not arrive at a conclusion, and that may be KC’s intention.Instead, the viewer is asked to think outside the box – or cans. The tug-of-war between history and traditional values, practices, and modern politics, luxury, hunger, etc is often indispensable in Nepali contemporary art. Aptly so, considering the unique position of the country’s many living cultures.KC’s work gives this a little spin: not so much of a tug-of-war here, but something more fluid. Rather than being at opposing ends, KC invites us to consider how culture and modern life may in fact be informing each other, especially among the Himalaya, and people are not so much rejecting one in favour of another, but building practices and lifestyles that incorporate both ideas.“The artwork is inspired by my own experience as a traveller, through my observations and memories,” says KC, who also wanted to see what reaction would bringing a mani wheel to a gallery space evoke. “How does a wheel embossed with prayers compare to a simple tin can?”KC believes that adding embellishment and confounding jargon would limit the art experience. Viewers also take a leap of faith when engaging with the piece, which itself necessitates the act of letting go, without which the boundlessness of a prayer wheel may never be reckoned with.Object in Focus #6: Out of emptinessby Bidhata KCCurated by Roshan MishraWith support from Aakar Kalaghar and Contemporary Art of Nepal FoundationTaragaon Next, BoudhaTill 15 February 2023, 10:00am – 5:00pm

Giving prayer wheels an arty spin

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150228/63fe10489c7e80680e0da48fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"/>Right after entering Siddhartha Art Gallery, a large painting immediately catches the eyes of visitors. ‘Modern Rawan’ an acrylic on canvas by Roshan Pradhan shows a naked figure, orange and brown, crouching with one hand under its chin.Its face is missing, replaced by a pink lotus. The figure wears a golden crown on its head with a swirl of clouds wrapped around its shoulders like an ethereal scarf. Disembodied faces of Albert Einstein, Michael Jackson, Steve Jobs, Da Vinci, Stephen Hawking, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13102#.Y9yu7HZByJA" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Karl Marx</a>, even Adolf Hitler, hang on both sides.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150228/63fe104c9c7e80680e0da490jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1536" height="2304">Pradhan’s striking depictions of cultural motifs and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/traders-barter-tradition-for-modernity/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">traditions in conversation with modernity</a> are at once a reflection and diversion. In a time when AI-generated digital art is in vogue, centuries-old practices hang uncertain.An android is a central figure in ‘New World’, with metallic limbs and closed eyes. Honeycomb is another prominent motif which calls to mind the laborious bees, hive-mind, as well the notion of clockwork-like colonies.Pradhan is concerned with the questions of free-will, human intelligence, culture and nature, and what we take into the future. Or, rather, is anything from the past worth saving and acknowledging, when modern ideas and technologies continuously inform our choices and lifestyle?Pradhan is part of the five-member Pagoda Group, featuring artists Kishor Nakarmi, Pradhumna Shrestha, Mala Shrestha and Rudra Bahadur Pun, whose works are currently being exhibited at Siddhartha Art Gallery. Called Collective Expressions, the paintings cover a wide array of motifs and styles, but have among them a common theme of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali cultural heritage, from monuments to symbols</a>.The variance in style reaffirms Nepal’s unique position as a living culture with diverse traditions, faiths and backgrounds. Experimental in nature, from Pradhan’s futuristic metaphors, Pun’s calming chörten to Nakarmi’s gothic Buddhas, or Pradhumna Shrestha’s blazing Darbar Squares to Mala Shrestha’s expressionistic mudra, the paintings capture the dialogue between creative forces and a sense of spirituality and influence of one’s roots.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150228/63fe10519c7e80680e0da491jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536">A striking example of this is Pradhumna Shrestha’s ‘Shangrila’ series, which focuses on architectural and material space. His paintings depict the Darbar squares of Kathmandu Valley, as seen through a fiery lens, with delicate accuracy.But these are far from simply realistic. There is a discomforting hotness to the artworks, concerned with vanishing traditions and heritage, almost crying out to the viewer: What are you waiting for, how can you sit comfortably as fire rages around you?Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-tale-of-three-cities/">A tale of three cities</a>, Ashish Dhakal<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/painted-walls-and-pieces-of-history/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Painted walls and pieces of history</a>, Ashish Dhakal<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150228/63fe10559c7e80680e0da492jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1536" height="2304">Elsewhere, Mala Shrestha takes the symbol of nature and life merging a step further. In her paintings, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-delta-of-kama/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">woodcarvings</a> blend with trees, and by extension the earth, their origin. Mala’s works highlight the significance of emotions and thoughts that often bridge nature to the arts and crafts. In ‘Holy Water’ colours and shapes inspire the viewer to look beyond the present reality.<h4>Woodcut prints</h4>The gallery’s other space across the courtyard is currently showing a very different kind of artwork: woodcut prints. Monsoon Printmaking 2023 is the result of an online workshop organised by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/The-solace-of-art-Nepal,2934" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bindu Space for Artists</a> in 2022 and brings together the unique expressions of 35 multidisciplinary artists, including Anusha Thapa, Aman Maharjan, Bidhata KC, Bidhyaman Tamang, Jenney Ghale, Saurganga Darshandhari and Sujita Chaudhary.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150228/63fe105a9c7e80680e0da493jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150228/63fe105e9c7e80680e0da494jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536">Woodcut is a form of relief printing, and this artform highlights the balance between ink and no ink, which the artist cuts away into the surface of a block of wood with gouges, leaving the printing parts level with the surface while removing the non-printing parts.One can find a variation of tones, from monochrome, duotone to multicoloured prints. Manisha Manandhar’s ‘Lukha Duwa’ pays homage to Newa traditions and architecture while Katyani Rai’s ‘Self Portrait’ depicts a surreal landscape with trees, faces and a crow. Bidhyaman Tamang’s ‘The Older I get, The More I Learn’ shows a letterbox surrounded by cats and rats and a urinating dog while Snellen charts are strewn on the ground: a metaphor, perhaps, of miscommunication and lack of vision.Right next to it sits another very endearing feline, its round eyes like planets peering at coins in the sky. Called ‘Gravity’ by Sony Rai, these symbols for money present the staggering reality of capitalist attractions as a curious creature looks on. Inside, ‘Structures’ by Bidhata KC shows an ambiguous green landscape with no top or bottom – or are we looking at it from above? – as rectangles and squares make out buildings, drawing attention to the dialogue between the earth, the trees and the skies, and humans.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10619c7e80680e0da495jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1536" height="2304"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10669c7e80680e0da496jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3931" height="5898">Rubi Maharjan’s ‘In the Blues’ appears like a raging sea, but looking deeper there is a profoundly beautiful sadness in between the spaces, which is, inexplicably, also hopeful.Together, both exhibitions occupy a kind of a liminal space between the seasons, where it feels as though all meanings are possible. Experimentation of styles draws attention to many challenges and expressions that define our lives and experiences, but, here, there be no easy answers.Collected Expressionsby Pagoda GroupTill 17 February 2023 Monsoon Printmaking 2023By Various Artists Till 18 February 2023Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal RevisitedSunday – Friday: 11:00am - 05:00pmSaturday: 12:00 - 5:00pm

When art unites what divides us

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a0fa9c7e80680e0d7061jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"/><figcaption>All photos: ASHISH DHAKAL</figcaption></figure>Contemporary videographer and photographer Aakash Pradhan’s latest show at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/muses-of-the-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Wind Horse Gallery</a> in Jhamsikhel comes across as being a quiet affair. But Corny Clouds, curated by Ujen Norbu Gurung, is far from the mawkishly sentimental.It leads the viewer through the glass doors into a dimly-lit corridor which has a calming atmosphere – quite literally, as on the walls one finds variously sized photography-on-canvases of the sky.The first are part of a triptych, ‘Nothing But Good Energy’. Large canvases as blue as the word ‘clear’ itself. The colour gradient shifts concentrically around a brilliant sun, as amorphous clouds trail in. The canvas in the middle shows a snowy mountain peak rising from the bottom-left corner. But what hour is it -- early morning or late afternoon? There is no telling, and, at the same time, perhaps it does not matter. What we are asked to view here is the sky itself, in its many forms and moods.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a0fe9c7e80680e0d7062jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3024" height="4032"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a1039c7e80680e0d7063jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3024" height="4032">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/on-screen-mountains/">On-screen mountains</a>, Sahina ShresthaRight across are two more canvases ‘Was Good Till It Lasted’ which show markedly different skies in juxtaposition to the striking blue. The colours are warmer, with swirling shades of pink, orange and purple, like the ether in twilight or breaking dawn.A sliver of the crescent moon sits in one while a brilliant golden dot in another, as a mass of shaded clouds gathers under them. If ‘Nothing But Good Energy’ gave one a sense of an impending adventure, a flight, ‘Was Good Till It Lasted’ reminds one to pause, consider oneself, and be grateful for the beauty around.Elsewhere, a group of three smaller canvases present an almost cinematic look at the city. ‘5’o clock in the morning’ appears as though one zooms out from the brilliant yellow orb in the sky above dark hills to find an array of high-rise buildings and houses under the sky. While from the right, it is the exact opposite direction. There is, of course, no right or wrong motion: one either moves deeper into the vastness of the sky or reckons with the sprawling civilisation around us.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a1079c7e80680e0d7064jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024">Drawing in from Pradhan’s vast experience in photography and videography, the exhibition is an intriguing cross-genre excursion. At the centre of the gallery, a video of clouds in motion is projected on to the wall, and in the adjoining chamber a series of nine works displaying absorbing experimentation with form and content. Clever collages, almost psychedelic in nature, ask the viewers to interact with spirituality and consciousness. Declutter your mind, they seem to say, and open yourself to a dazzling alteration of themes.The saying 'The sky is the same everywhere' takes on an interesting tune among Pradhan’s works. One look above and we immediately become aware of the expanse, whether from Lalitpur or the Base Camps or anywhere else in the world. Sometimes it is overcast, sometimes it is absolutely still and clear. But there is a sense of common experience.Read also: <a style="font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: 0.15px; background-color: #ffffff;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-other-attraction-the-night-sky/">Nepal’s other attraction: the night sky</a>, Himali Dixit<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a10c9c7e80680e0d7065jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024">Generations of humans have turned to the sky, adding and uncovering meanings in its folds and colours, sometimes worshipping its vastness. We too share in this experience, as the clouds rearrange themselves in various shapes and sizes. Here a rabbit, there a yaksha, each a different story than the last.Pradhan's works are inviting, with a subtle promise of familiar exposures. Then then they quickly become more: one must exercise one’s own imagination. The artist shows the door but we have to walk through it ourselves, processing, discovering connections and interpretations.Corny CloudsBy Aakash PradhanCurated by Ujen Norbu GurungWind Horse Gallery, JhamsikhelTill 4 February 2023, 11am—6:30pmRead also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-sand-and-a-hard-place/">Between sand and a hard place</a>, Ashish Dhakal<a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; letter-spacing: 0.15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-by-night/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal by night</a>, Anil Chitrakar<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-sky-can-be-this-clean-every-day/">Nepal’s sky can be this clean every day</a>, Ajaya Dixit