The Tuba Diary

Rooted

March/ April 2026

Things started becoming heavier — not only process-heavy but emotionally dramatic heavy too.

Almost.

This phase was filled with walking.

Walking through abandoned paddy fields.

Stopping.

Listening.

Walking again.

I spent long periods sitting in the paddy field.

Morning.

Afternoon.

Evening.

Sometimes until night.

Just observing.

Trying to understand how a place changes throughout the day.

Trying to imagine bodies that once moved through these spaces.

Trying to understand rhythms that no longer existed.

There is a quiet, radical power in choosing to work slowly. It meant allowing myself the time to fail, to sit in silence and to let the island guide the work rather than the other way around.

This self-initiated residency was an exercise in patience. It taught me that if you are willing to slow down long enough—to let go of the need for an instant answer—you start to hear the things that were there all along, waiting to be noticed.

Since this phase is so physically demanding, I will try to share some photos. If you can read this, it means I successfully published it right before the blackout hits. Blackouts here are no joke- all the electricity goes off and we lose phone connection, too. Here are a few snapshots from my diary this time:

Note: Images shared with the kind permission and blessing of the Tuba Island community.