Farida Yesmin (fka Kajoli Ilojak)

I was 6 years old when my whole world crumbled down as a result of a serious car accident. I nearly lost my arm but, fortunately, a year of hospital treatment rescued it. Even though my arm was saved, the accident left a big, ugly scar that drew everyone's attention: people would look at me with pity, and other children shunned my company out of fear or repulsion. It became impossible for me to form friendships or close bonds. I would hide in the corners, away from other people… As a consequence, I found comfort in sitting with a pencil and paper, drawing anything that would come to my mind. Drawing became an addiction for me, as it brought me peace and solace. From this young age, I remained a loner. In my early 20s, then, I met the person who would become my future husband, who was also involved in the arts. I thought he understood me but, unfortunately, after marriage, it became apparent that I remained a victim of my childhood scar. We divorced. And, again, I kept on drawing to maintain my sanity. Although the scar brought me social ostracism, through my drawing practice, it also opened for me a world of creativity, contentment and balance. Up to these days, I know that most Bangladeshi people haven’t changed their attitude towards my scar, but I have learnt to ignore it as my art and creativity have given me the tools to build a different world for myself - a world of hope and bliss.

A meditation on freedom, repression and hope. When the ivy does not find its tower When the delicate creeper does not find a strong wall… Do we know how parasite plants can grow but not prosper? I was told that a woman should never be insecure. That she should never be struggling financially, spiritually, emotionally, or rely on others. A dead bird doesn't necessarily portend a physical death, but a metaphorical one. This dead bird marks the end of my search and struggle. It is the end of something and the start of something else.

A poetic durational performance exploring personal experiences of chronic pain, displacement, and the endurance of prejudices as a woman who faced modern slavery. Born in Bangladesh & having migrated to the UK about 20 years ago, the artist traces her journey of self-discovery & healing by grappling with her Bangladeshi heritage, cultural expectations, and the (metaphorical & physical) wounds that she carries in her body. The performance further explores Farida’s powerlessness in relation to the current political upheaval and the violence that her family & many others are currently experiencing in Bangladesh, with the rise of Islamic extremism.

A performance for camera that reflects on the artist’s feelings of rejection and social ostracism, in both her country of origin and the one she has been trying to settle to find safety and stability. In the UK, Farida has found that her search for equality would inevitably clash with the reality of racism and a climate of hostility towards migrants like her. From the coasts of Folkestone, just opposite the sharp white cliffs that face the turbulent waters of the English Channel, Farida is sitting on the ‘white’ rocks of an empty beach - her lone, naked, brown body staring towards an empty beach. There, she can finally scream - showing the aggression and vulnerability of a wounded animal.