The link between Indian bridal wear, abstractionism, and learning to use your voice again.

Russna Kaur’s story is one many South Asian-Canadians can relate to: expectations and traditions balanced against desires and dreams—a tug of war between trodden past and unknown future. 

Kaur’s mother worked in the Indian bridal industry, designing intricate sets of clothing for women to wear during the most pivotal moments of their lives. She grew up in a tight-knit Punjabi community in Brampton, always enveloped in the vibrant and saturated hues of her culture and its equally vibrant people. All this to say, her life was never dull. She was raised in a world of colour, surrounded by swaths of velvet, georgette, satin, and tulle. 

When Kaur started her Bachelor’s degree at the University of Waterloo, despite not having a burning desire to work in healthcare, she opted to take the pre-med track and major in biology. As the eldest daughter, she knew that her parents expected her to follow certain steps and achieve normative success, which she intended to do; the beginning of a familiar tale to any child within the South Asian diaspora, filled with feelings of filial piety and a loyalty to tradition that is too heavy to shrug off.  

Beyond the primary obligations she felt to her parents, the pressures of being the eldest daughter in a Punjabi family played a huge role in her career choices. She saw how cultural norms and expectations shaped the lives of the other women in her life, and how freedom of choice was typically out of reach for them. Watching them sacrifice for the sake of tradition was conflicting for Kaur, who also saw the support systems that formed out of this pressure and brought women together as anchors within their families and communities.  

As Kaur explained, and as many other South Asians can attest, there is a feeling of social pressure that comes with the decision-making process when choosing a career. The question “What would people think?” ringing like tinnitus in your ears with every step you take outside of the well-trodden, traditional path. 

Initially, Kaur pursued a career that she and her family felt was respectable, especially within their cultural norms, despite the fact that it wasn’t what she truly wanted. Like her mother, aunts, and grandmothers before her, she was ready to sacrifice her dreams and desires for the sake of tradition. 

Her journey veered off its set course during her second year of university, when she finally made the decision to switch her biology major with her fine arts minor. A small step towards the future she dreamt of, but a big step out of the norm. Later on, she dropped the biology portion of her degree entirely and switched to a bachelor of fine arts. Still determined to contribute to her family’s traditions, Kaur worked in commercial surface and textile design as well as fashion design after graduating, helping her mother’s clothing boutique. It took time before she finally confronted her true dreams and desires to pursue a career in painting and visual art.

“The sacrifices made by the generations of my family made me feel even stronger about pushing forward, breaking past certain patterns of behaviour and continuing to improve upon, expand upon, [and] build upon the progress made by this line. Trying to split away from things seeming like they are going well to achieving a true sense of freedom and happiness.”

Kaur attests that during that time, she felt like she was making choices based on what others wanted her to do. She was losing her ability to speak for herself in the noise of what others wanted for her, her voice becoming background music in the symphony of her own life. 

“People kept asking me the same questions, again and again and again, until I’d give them the answers they wanted to hear.” 

It took time and introspection but eventually, Kaur made a point to stick to her answers and let her passions be known. She found solace in painting and using color to express herself. Even if she wasn’t speaking, her voice could still be heard. She found the strength to pave her own path, despite the cultural or social consequences of her choices. 

Curated by Leah Taylor, Kaur’s current exhibition again and again… finally the freedom to fall is on display until April 25. The installation spans the two available exhibition spaces in the Administration building on campus, utilizing the open concepts and wall space to display puzzle-like abstractions that challenge perspective. 

The separate and massive canvases all fit together like puzzle pieces, creating a larger-than-life image across the walls. The beauty of this method is not only in the cohesion between the separate pieces, joined together only by proximity, but in the fact that the piece is never set in stone. Each canvas in the piece is interchangeable, every side can be expanded further. It is only a brief and fleeting moment expressed on canvas, and once it’s gone, it’s gone forever. 

Kaur uses façades in her works, fascinated with juxtaposition and concealment. The art of distraction and illusion. Her abstractions urge viewers to dig deeper into each piece, beyond the bright colours and into what’s truly being said. Look past the distorted letters and repeated mark-making patterns. Find the meaning, be it Kaur’s or your own. 

She credits her childhood exposure to textiles for her fondness of mixing fabrics and other materials in her works, always experimenting with different combinations, much like the way her mother did when she designed stunning bridal wear out of any fabrics her keen eye could find. Like her mother, Kaur finds ways to highlight the connections and contrasts between different materials while keeping the image, and its story at large, cohesive. 

Just like Kaur’s life, the exhibit is filled with colour. It’s a snapshot into her life, in the form of contorted words, a sunset-like mural and vibrant, consuming images. She’s taken small pieces of her life—her experiences, feelings, and expertise, and created a collage for the world to see.  

There is a story here, hidden in between the geometric shapes and distorted lettering, for any keen eyes to find. It’s one that often goes unheard. A story of ignition, of flames unwilling to be snuffed out by the winds of cultural expectations and domineering norms. It is a story of freedom, told by one strong enough to speak for herself again.