I had the honour of seeing Kaalchakra in London. This exhibition was curated by Daksh Goel and Oishi Roy Dutta as part of the London Design Festival 2025, showcasing twenty-four artists. Initially, I didn't have many expectations. I have been lucky to be able to see quite a few exhibitions in London,but London has always overwhelmed me as someone living the bulk of my adult life in the North. From my experience of going to shows there, they do tend to fall into two categories: white cube exhibitions or ‘'sardines'' group shows. This is no hatred towards the art, but more towards the systems that cause this. When I say this, however, no exhibition has ever felt more refreshing and beautiful than Kaalchakra. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I get emotional thinking about the level of care and the ethos that went into creating it.
I think it is important context that this exhibition takes place within the Chapel of what used to be an asylum. The space is full of cracked plaster and faded paint. The air feels both broken and alive. Kaalchakra sits inside that tension. You feel the weight of the space as you enter and for an exhibition about cycles, about time looping back on itself. Every aspect of this exhibition was thought about deeply. Everything relates back to time. Twenty-four artists, each responding to a month of the year. Two voices per month. A cycle of twelve that stretches into twenty-four, like hours in a day. You don't walk it in order. You drift. The works bleed into each other.
Photography by Neelanchai Gupta and Manisha Puri
The idea comes from South Asian traditions where time is not a line but a wheel. Kaalchakra translates to the “wheel of time.” This idea goes against the Western habit of treating time as progress, and part of this exhibition is to share this idea. I really appreciated how this was mirrored in the idea that the artists came from different backgrounds and cultures. I think this ethos is especially important when you consider a lot of the ‘England for the English' rhetoric going on right now.
Something I found really interesting was the mix of different types of artworks. There was range of sound, sculpture, installation, and moving image. Three pieces stood out to me in particular.
The first, was the soundtrack by Ma Pak Yin. It expertly filled the space with mystery and an otherworldly energy. It drew from classical dance, but felt more like a pulse, something you carry in your body as you walk.
The second was Victoria Kosasie's work “My Surrender, Your Offering”, where the artist presented speculative artefacts. These objects are a series of bronze cast daggers inspired by the ‘Kriss'' Blade, the grip of which is formed around her and her grandmother's grip. It was powerful and beautiful to see this generational element woven into the piece. Seeing the level of care and labour of love that went into this artwork brings so much soul into it. I think it is refreshing to see these post-colonial elements explored, as the idea of thinking generationally is not something typically explored within Western Culture.
The third was Ross Deeley's Rhythm, a series of four IKEA LED lights that at times fell out of sync. I found the material choice important; it connected ideas of deep time to something corporate and cold. I've always had a soft spot for artworks that play with time slipping out of sync, ever since I first encountered Félix González-Torres. Using this “out of sync” approach to explore deep time through such a mass-produced material was, I thought, very impressive.
Photography by Neelanchai Gupta and Manisha Puri
At first, hearing about the variety of works, you might assume you won't enjoy them all. But maybe that's the point. This is not a space for passive enjoyment. It's a reflective space, asking you to sit with the works and think. That ties back beautifully to the fact that this is a chapel.
Dutta describes the exhibition as a love letter. To London. To her MA. To collaboration. That comes through. Nothing feels like it's fighting for attention. The works sit together, and it feels like they flow together in relation. She says, “If one of us succeeds, all of us succeed.” That ethos gives the show a warmth you don't often find within the arts sector.
I was lucky enough to be able to interview both lead curators to see what they add to say:
Interview with Oishi
Orisa:
If you can just start by introducing yourself.
Oishi:
Okay, so my name is Oishi, and I'm originally from New Delhi. I'm Bengali, and I moved here for my MA in Contemporary Art. A lot of my work is about digitality - how we deal with these new formats of living and how our identities become warped within them.
This show came out of many different collaborations. It's really a love letter to my whole experience in London, my MA, and my growth as an artist. The exhibition is about returning to the idea of time, thinking about how it occurs naturally - like waves or seasons. It treats time as a cycle, like nature does, rather than linear, which is how we've been taught to think in the West, especially under capitalism and industrialisation.
Orisa:
That's so beautiful to hear. So, one of my jobs is with an organisation called SAA-uk. It's mainly performance and music-based, but we also touch on visual arts. A lot of it is about empowering young South Asians. So I find it really interesting to hear you talk about collaboration, because in our work we also talk a lot about cycles and traditions in South Asian culture and music.
Oishi:
That's interesting - I actually trained in classical music and dance for many years. I used to perform professionally, and I bring some of that into my practice. For example, the soundtrack you hear in this exhibition was created by the sound artist Mapane. When we were developing it, we went back to classical dance practices as a foundation.
Orisa:
That's amazing. You also mentioned collaboration earlier - could you say a bit more about that, especially from a South Asian perspective?
Oishi:
For me, collaboration is about enriching each other. We may come from different places, but emotionally and spiritually, we are often trying to get to the same place. We use the formats we know to meet one another there.
It's very Western to see culture as individualistic. So much of what is truly indigenous comes from the earth, and that's where I think our collaborative practices connect.
Orisa:
I really like that. But I also want to ask something else - in the South Asian community there are sometimes divisions, like between Indians, Pakistanis, Tamils, Punjabis, etc. Have you experienced that?
Oishi:
I thought it might be an issue, but it hasn't been. I think the further away you are from your homeland, the less those differences matter. We start to have more open conversations, and those divides don't feel as strong. Of course, governments have historically set us against each other, but when we're here, we're more focused on connection.
Orisa:
So would you say that community is one of your core values?
Oishi:
Yes, but for me, it's not just “community” - it's survival and symbiosis. If one of us succeeds, we all succeed. The forest is only healthy if the trees are healthy. That's how I see it with my friends and collaborators. And with this exhibition, I want people to leave feeling calmer - like they're not running on linear time. I want them to slow down and sense the world around them.
Orisa:
That's such a beautiful ethos - collaboration instead of competition. The art world can be so brutal and competitive.
Oishi:
I don't think ambition is bad - it keeps us moving. For example, if someone else achieves something I wanted, I might feel jealous, but I can also take it as motivation to try harder next time. The important thing is to be genuinely happy when people you admire succeed.
Orisa:
That's very well put. You just graduated, right? How are you feeling about the transition from university into the wider art world?
Oishi:
I used to work in very commercial spaces before, and while that was good experience, I realised that I really do want to be an artist. I had been running away from it for a long time - choosing “safer” paths. But now I know I want to be invested in making art.
Orisa:
Do you see commercial work, like art direction, as just a way to pay the bills, or is it something you're passionate about too?
Oishi:
For me, it's both. The commercial work actually feeds my artistic practice. Being in spaces where you're constantly asked to consume gives me a lot of material and perspective for my art.
Orisa:
That's fascinating. I also wanted to ask - what are your thoughts on digital identity? For me, digital and physical realities are deeply tied together. Digital actions impact our physical lives. But in art history and theory, the canon of new media is very dominated by white, Western perspectives. How do you approach that?
Oishi:
The more we use digital spaces, the more they feel like extensions of ourselves - even though they also distort us. We have to remember that what we see online isn't always real, but it can still shape us deeply. I hope we can move past the nihilism of online culture and use these tools authentically. It will take time - just like early technologies always take time to mature.
Orisa:
That's hopeful - I like that. Where do you think things are going next with digital art and tools?
Oishi:
Honestly, I don't know. I've been surprised again and again. But what I hope is that art becomes more accessible, with multiple ways of viewing and interacting. With the internet, we don't need one language to communicate - someone in Japan can connect with someone in South America. I want digital art to embrace that universality, to have many entry points and translations, rather than being locked into one perspective.
Orisa:
That's so refreshing to hear. I think things are moving toward more collaborative, supportive models, and it's exciting to see artists like you embracing that.
Oishi:
Yes, I think we're slowly moving away from separationist ideas. As we learn more about ourselves and our histories, we gain confidence, and that makes collaboration easier.
Orisa:
That's wonderful. Is there anything you'd like to end on?
Oishi:
I wish that across continents - Africa, Japan, India, everywhere - we can become more connected, enjoy collaboration, and slow down enough to really see one another.
Interview with Daksh
Orisa :
So, if you can start by introducing yourself.
Daksh:
Sure. My name is Daksh. I'm from Delhi, and I run a practice called OSA Studio back home, which is very much like an architectural firm. I come from an architecture background, but I did my Master's in Design Products.
That background really shaped me. I've always been interested in transitional and temporary spaces - spaces that aren't usually considered “architecture,” but still hold so much history. When I started thinking about exhibiting, it felt natural to approach galleries in a similar way - as transitional, temporal sites.
Orisa:
That's so interesting. I was speaking with Oishi earlier, and she talked about the cyclical nature of time being important in this exhibition. For context, one of the organisations I work for is called South Asian Arts-uk. A lot of our work is based around performance and music, especially South Asian music traditions, which are very cyclical. I'd love to get your thoughts on how that concept of cycles or circularity informed the design of this space.
Daksh:
When I first started talking with the team here, I realised I didn't want to be bound by the usual expectations put on Indian artists abroad. I was free to experiment. I thought about storytelling - the way my grandmother would tell stories before bed, passed down orally, often without a clear beginning or end. That cyclical nature felt important.
It's similar with objects or garments - like how in India, someone might wear the same black jacket every December for years. These repetitions and cycles shape our memory and relationship with spaces.
And then there's the church itself. This space is literally full of cracks, fading, decaying. It's dying, in a way, but still alive with people inhabiting it. That became a perfect metaphor for the show.
Orisa:
That's fascinating. I'm from the north of England, and up there we see a lot of exhibitions happening in abandoned buildings - churches, empty shops, all sorts of anti–white cube spaces. It's a big part of northern culture, whereas in the south the white cube model dominates. Do you think that's a cultural difference, or more to do with economics?
Daksh:
From what I see, it's getting harder and harder to be an artist. White cube galleries are expensive and demand a certain kind of work - mostly paintings or objects that sit well in a blank space. But there are huge costs for artists: producing, transporting, installing, insuring. Not everyone can afford that.
So artists start looking for other types of spaces - churches, abandoned buildings, unconventional venues. They're more affordable and they allow for a different kind of dialogue with the audience.
Orisa:
Yes, and in the north ,it often connects back to community - unconventional spaces make art more accessible. I think it's amazing that here in London you're using a church not as a commercial space, but as a place of reflection. Traditionally, churches were contemplative environments, and it feels like you've embraced that history.
Daksh:
Exactly. In India, spaces like temples or gathering places weren't originally about religion in the way we think today. They were communal and celebratory. Religion came later, layered on top.
High ceilings, for example - they were designed so that sound could resonate, so people could sing together. There's something subconscious about how we respond to that. So when I came into this church, I didn't see it as a religious building, but as a reflective, communal space.
In a way, the space curated the exhibition for us - the cracked walls, the light, the arrangement of chairs. We just responded to what was already there.
Orisa:
I have to say, this is the most beautifully curated exhibition I've seen all year. The care put into every detail is astounding.
One last question: when you think about the wider art world, what values do you think need to be added or reinforced?
Daksh:
I think we need to move away from the dominance of the white cube. That model makes sense for paintings - they demand that kind of isolation. But other kinds of work suffer in that environment. For example, textiles or fragile installations get swallowed up by white walls.
We need more flexible spaces, that can hold different kinds of practices without forcing them into the same box.
Orisa:
That's a really important point. Before we wrap up, is there anyone you'd like to shout out?
Daksh:
Yes - Ayushi. She's been such a support and inspiration. She also comes from an architecture background, so I see a lot of myself in her work. It's not traditional “fine art,” but it pushes boundaries in ways the industry needs to see.
Orisa:
That's wonderful. Thank you so much, Daksh - this has been an incredible conversation
